


After The Dance

by Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (F)aegon, Conquest, Dragons, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, The Winds of Winter, War, a song of ice and fire - Freeform, and a few fights, and the long night eventually, it’ll take a few chapters to get into it, it’s gonna be a long one, my predictions, sorry if you don’t like waiting, theres gonna be lots of dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite/pseuds/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite
Summary: Jon Snow is dead and Daenerys has flown away, how will everyone cope under the stresses of life as tensions build in all corners.Winds of Winter fic/ predictions





	1. Nothing’s Worth Anything To Dead Men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a winds of Winter fanfiction/ predictions sort of thing. I’ll try to upload every sunday

-VAL I-  
Wun Wun was screaming. The sound was so loud the whole tower shook, and Val feared that the already dilapidated Hardin’s tower might collapse there and then. More people were shouting now, their human voices could never match the giants. Over it all, she only just made out Jon’s voice shouting, “let him go, Wun Wun let him go!” Now she was afraid. The tensions at castle black already ran higher than the wall, if Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun were to attack a one of the crows, or worse a queens man, the fragile peace that Jon had built would break. And gods help them all if it did.

Jon was shouting something else now, “no blades, Wick put that knife-”, The giant was still roaring and the men were screaming in outrage, but Jon was silent. She had to see for herself, she could be of no use to anyone hiding up in her room.

When she reached the base of the tower, where the giant normally slept, Wun Wun had stopped roaring but she saw why the men had been so angry. The giant was holding the mangled and broken corpse of Ser Patrek of Kings mountain, one of the queens knights. No, the thought, no no no, that bearded queen will have his head for this.

Wun Wun was looking at something outside in the yard. Almost the whole castle had come out to see what had happened, most of the men were huddled just outside the door, their backs to val and the giant. A safe distance behind them all was Queen Selyse and her daughter Shireen. When they saw what had become of ser Patrek, the queen almost fainted, and the nearest knight had to reach out a hand to steady her. The little princess burst into tears and hid her face in her mother’s stomach. One of the crows turned at her approach, his face white with horror. Horse, his name is horse, she remembered.

“what is it?” Val asked him, “what happened?”

He didn’t answer, just opened his mouth and shook his head. She pushed passed him and into the knot of men. Some where free folk, some were crows, some were queens men. All were too shocked for words. And now she saw why.

He was lying facedown in the snow, there was a knife between his shoulder blades and wound in his side to showing where a second had been. The snow all around him was stained red.

The men stood around her began to leave, the queens men first.

Val knealt down beside him and reached out a shaking hand, to turn him over. She already knew what she would find, but she had to see it. He was still warm, but the blood stained snow was slowly taking what remained of his heat.

All of the queens men had gone now, leaving only free folk and crows.

She pulled the knife out first, then pushed on the shoulder closest to her and rolled him onto his back. Someone else was shouting now, but she could barely hear him. He came out to where they all were.

Upon seeing Tormund giants bane, many of the crows flew away. He said something to a few of her own kind who then took the giant back inside. Tormund stood beside her.

Jon’s eyes where still open, but he was dead.

Val closed them, and stood back up. The ginger man gave her a look that, on any other man, could have been fear, but on him, was rage. If Val had been any other woman, she may have wept or screamed or cursed. But she had grown up north of the wall, she had know more than her share death, she was not the sort of person balk when a friend died.

“Tormund,” she said, “take him inside”

Torreg, Tormund’s son, had been Jon’s squire. He helped his father lift the body and carry it inside.

Almost all the crows had gone now, only three were left, Horse, Satin and Leathers. All of the free folk gathered there followed Tormund and torreg into Hardins, so did the three crows.

She did not waste any more time. No one else knew all that she knew, and even if they did they were still to shocked and shaken to figure it out and do what she was doing. She was going to the old forge. Before she had even arrived she could hear him, scratching and jumping at the door.

“Ghost”, she called, softly, as not to scare him or draw too much attention, “it’s Val, move back im coming in”

As soon as she stepped through the door, the direwolf was on her. His teeth bared at her in a silent snarl, his hackles were up, he was almost as tall as she was. She was trapped against the wall.

“You know me Ghost.” she said, but it only made him him angrier. She had no time to argue with him, and no wolf ever listened to calm words, “you’re scarred I know, but we don’t have time, the crows will be here soon and they will kill you.” He relaxed more and backed away slightly at that. She put her hand to his face and stroked his cheek “Tormunds in Hardins tower, that’s where we have to go.”

Snow was falling again as they left the forge, soaking up their footfalls and melting on their heads. Hardin’s tower was almost full, Tormund was waiting for her at the door. He nodded when he saw the wolf and brought them through the mass of free folk who had gathered there, waiting to hear what they would do next. She saw Borroq next to Wun Wun, his boar was not there for which she was glad, but Ghost still bristled at the smell of him. Tormund and Toregg had taken Jon’s body up to one of her rooms. He was laid out on a desk. Now he was out of the snow, she could see he had taken 4 knives, not 2. One to the throat, one in the stomach and two in the back.

The three crows were there, each one angrier than the last. None said a word though, and she understood why. They were here, all their brothers had returned to the shield hall to wait for one of theirs to tell them what would happen now. These three though, they hadn’t, they had stayed with Jon and sided with the wildlings.

Old Mormont’s talking raven had gotten in somehow, he flapped down onto the table, “snow,”he cried, “Jon snow Jon snow”. Toregg sat at the foot of the table, he shoo’d him away and looked up at their arrival.

“Why did you bring the wolf?” He asked her, “he’ll be little help when them out there decide to kill us all. Might as well have set him free, now he’ll just die right with the rest of us.” His voice was angry, but Val knew it was to hide his fear and grief. Tormund looked to her, then to the corpse, then to to wolf, then to Toregg and the three crows. They all looked equally oblivious to what was happening, then Leathers creased his brow and looked at the wolf again.  
“The wolf.” He said with a sigh of relief now he understood, “Jon is the wolf.”

-ARYA I-  
The crowd was smaller today than it had been for the previous shows, only thirty people, perhaps fewer. They were a good audience though, and more than made up for their lack of numbers in their enthusiasm.

The kindly man had sent her to the mummers three weeks ago. She had so few lines it had only taken her a day to learn them. When she was first told that she would be joining a mummers troop, she had assumed she was being sent there to learn how to lie better. Once she got there though she discovered that that had only been half the reason.

The play was called “The Bloody Hand”, and if Arya Stark had seen it, she would have been wroth. It claimed to tell the events at King’s Landing during the war of the five kings, but it was all wrong. The hand himself was Tyrion Lannister. In the play he had been the one to order her fa- Lord Eddard Starks execution, but the imp had not even been there when the Starks were in King’s Landing, and she had heard Joffrey give the order herself. No she told herself, that was not me, that was Arya of house Stark. That girl is gone, she died in Westeros. I am Mercy, Mercy the mummer.

Mercy the mummer was much prettier than Arya Stark had been, which was why the mummers had given her the role of Margaery Tyrell, the new Queen of the seven kingdoms. She did not think she liked Margaery at first, the girl was too soft, and she actually wanted to marry Joffrey. But as she spent more time playing Margaery, she became quite fond of her. She’s only doing what she’s told, Mercy realised after her first week, most Westerosi women have next to no choice in who they marry. They marry who their family tell them to, to form lasting alliances between two houses. Even Arya Stark would have had to marry someone eventually.

It was a new moon that night. She told the head mummer and he let her go. The troop would be in Braavos for another month before moving on to Pentos. They were staying in an inn called “The Titans Daughter”. It was much further away from the house of black and white than brusco’s home had been, but that was a good thing now as it gave her a chance to learn something else. By the time she reached the house, the moon was rising and her warm breath froze in front of her.

Once inside the house of black and white, the Waif helped her take Mercy’s face off. Mercy was older, maybe 15 or 16, and very pretty. Cat of the canals was too young and too well known to join the mummers, but mercy was new and she looked the part for queen Margaery.

The kindly man came to them now, he and the waif nodded to each other and she left. The man sat down opposite her.

“What three things has a girl learned this time?” He asked.

“S’vrone is pregnant,” she said, “she is angry, she plans on killing the man who has done this to her”

He nodded, “This is good to know. What else?”

“The sea lord is close to death, he will not last the winter”

“Just so, and the third?”

“The iron bank made a bad investment,” she told him, she had heard this on her walk back, from an envoy was making his way from the docks, “They lent money to a lord in Westeros so he could buy food for winter. But he was killed while the envoy was returning to Braavos, and his men are not like to pay back his debt.”

“Does a girl know who this lord was?”

“No.”

He gave her a queer look, as if he knew something she did not. Part of her wanted to ask what he knew, for she was sure that he knew who this lord was. But she had learned that it was best not to ask question here. The man stood and gestured for her to do the same. They said good night and she returned to her bunk.

She had a wolf dream that night. It was a sad dream. She was with her pack still and snow was falling again, the ground was covered in it. Some of her smaller cousins did not like the snow. They kept moving their feet and whimpering. They wanted to move back into the woods, to hunt to kill to hide, but she could not. She stood at the edge of the river, and howled. The night wolf wanted to cross the water, to run and run and not stop until she reached her brother, but her pack would not follow her. She howled again and her smaller cousins joined her. Then she turned and led them back into the woods, they were pack now, and they needed her more than her brother did.

-BARRISTAN I- He was the first one at the council table, accompanied by Missandei. He had taken to keeping the little Narthi scribe close to him at all times, especially during council meetings. The girl was cleverer than half of the lords and generals on the queens council, and wiser than all of them. She could give surprisingly good council for one who was not yet 12. That was not his only reason to keep her close however. There were people in this pyramid now that Barristan Selmy did not entirely trust, and Missandei would be unable to protect herself should any of them turn on her.

The next to arrive was maester Marwyn. The maester had arrived from the citadel a few days ago, claiming that he was sent by one of his superiors to help council queen Daenerys and educate her in any Westerosi customs or events (ancient or recent) that she may require. He also brought a letter by the maester who had sent him, but would not allow Ser Barristan to read it as it is addressed to the Queen, not the Queens hand.

The rest came quickly after that. Skahaz the shavepate, Marselen of the mother’s men, Symon Stripeback of the free brothers, Tal Toraq of the stalwart shields Galazzar Galare the green grace , Jaqqa Rhan Rommo from the queens khalasar, Jokin and the widower of the storm crows. Greyworm came last, along with two of his generals. They all sat and looked to barristan selmy for an explanation. He gave it to them.

Three days ago, he sent the two Dornishmen into the Yunkish camp to free the remaining hostages. They had gone back to the wind blown to tell them of the hands deal to free their captains in exchange for freeing Daario, Hero the unsullied and the queens blood rider, Jhogo. The free company agreed, but sellswords are notoriously treacherous. So when they went to the tent the hostages were being held in, and found a dozen Second Sons on guard, the men from the Windblown handed the Dornishmen over to them, admitting the entire plan. Drinkwater and the big man were taken to the commander of the Second Son’s, Brown Ben Plumm and, to their surprise, Tyrion Lannister. They claimed that the Imp made some quip about Dornishmen not learning to stay well away from dragons after hearing of Prince Quentyn’s demise, but they received no further insult from the Second Son’s. Instead, they helped them. They brought the Hostages to them and gave them all second sons garb and delivered them to the place where the hostages were being held.

Yronwood and Drinkwater, accompanied by one of the captains of the second sons, Kasporio the cunning, and Tyrion Lannister, then delivered Jhogo, Daario and Hero of the unsullied back to the great pyramid of Meereen.

When they arrived with only 3 hostages Ser Barristan inquired as to the whereabouts of the other three (all of whom were kin to Hizdar zo Loraq). Daario Naharis told him “I’m afraid they were never hostages, Ser grandfather. Certainly not the way that we were. The Yunkish allowed them to roam the camp, feasted them at their own tables, even gave them slaves of they own to see to their every need. It would seem that the wise masters of Yunkai are in fact wise enough to know how to suck up to the new king of Meereen.

Ser Barristan explained all of this to the council. When it was all done, the rest of the queens representatives only had one question. Grey Worm asked it,

“What will we do about the Second Sons?”

“I don’t know” selmy answered, “I think it would be best if we waited for Queen D-”

The Shavepate cut him off, “we have wasted enough time waiting on the Queen. The Yunkish army is all but gone now the sellswords have abandoned them. They have no more hostages to use against us-”

“They still have three of Hizdars kin if you recall” the green grace interjected. The Shavepate laughed at that.

“Did you not hear what old Ser just told us? They are not hostages, they are honoured guests. Even if they weren’t, they are Hizdars kin, they are nothing to us.” The green grace had nothing to respond to that so Skahaz continued, “we should be rewarding the second sons. They brought all of the slavers sellswords to our side, with all five free companies, the unsullied, the brazen beasts, the mother’s men and the stalwart shields, our victory is certain. Even without the dragons.”

The dragons were another problem that the hands council had yet to solve, but unprovoked they were no real danger to the city. The second sons on the other hand, Ser Barristan was loath to trust brown ben plumm. In the short time I have now him the man has been thrice a turncloak, what is to stop him from betraying us again the moment I release Kasporio and lord Tyrion. The dwarf himself posed a whole new problem, though that truly was a matter best left to the queen. Until her return however, Barristan had confined him to his chambers.

“We cannot trust them.” He decided after short while, “but we would be fools to turn away such as they are offering us.” The next words stuck in his throats, he knew what they had to do, but there was no honour in it, “we send the free companies back to the Yunkish camp. There they will attack the slave soldiers, who have by all accounts been decimated by the pale mare. They will take captive all the masters they can find. If their armies lay down their arms they will be allowed to return to Astapor and Yunkai.”

“How?” Asked the Green Grace, “the slaves are so weak they can barely fight, how are they supposed to return to their homes. We surely can’t make them walk back?”

Ser Barristan had to think on that for a moment, “the slavers fleet is still blocking the Skezackshan, they can take those and sail home.”

Everyone nodded at that. It was a good plan, honour or no. As it now seemed that all were in agreement, he was about to call the meeting to a close when Grey Worm called, “Ser Barristan. I hope I am not intruding, but this one has a question.” The leader of the unsullied rarely asked questions in front of everyone else on the council, so the Hand judges that it must be important and nodded for him to continue.

“What is to be done about the Dornishmen?”

“It has already been done.” He answered, he drew a breath as he knew the council would not like the answer, “I sent them home, as soon as they had delivered the hostages.” There were many murmurs and angry looks exchanged then, he continued before anyone could question him, “I made a promise to them that they would go home, I had to keep that promise. Now, my lords, my lady, if that is all then let’s leave it there. I will speak to the sellswords captains this evening and tell them of our plan.” He nodded and walked from the hall, Missandei hurried after him.

Before they had had a chance to walk three feet out of the council room, a small girl ran up sand grabbed him by the sleeve, she was one of the queens cupbearers,

“You must come now Ser,” she said, panting from running so fast. “There is something, something, you must come see!” She ran off again. He and Missandei followed her at a much slower pace. When they arrived at a balcony she pointed out to sea, where a fleet of ships some 60 strong was sailing towards the city. His eyes were not as sharp as they once had been, so he asked Missandei to tell him who’s ships they were.

“I do not know the sigil, ser.”

“Describe it to me.”

“A black field,” she told him, though that much he could see himself, “there’s a creature on it, golden I think, it’s too far away to see what kind, it’s a sea beast, yes and definitely gold, gold on black. It looks like a monster.”

She did not have to continue now, he already knew what it was. “A kraken. It’s a kraken.”


	2. This Worlds Memory

-ASHA I-  
The snows around them fell three feet deep, dry and crisp and deadly.

They had enough food to last them to Castle Black, or, at least, they should do. Food wasn't the main issue anymore, the cold was. The other girl had already lost the tip of her nose to the bite during her escape from Winterfell, she had cried when they told her it was gone. _How in hell did this one survive the Bastard of Bolton?_

Asha knew now all that had happened to her brother during his time with Ramsey, it had almost killed him, and even though he had survived, he was not the Theon she remembered._ If the Bastard can turn a man as strong and proud as my brother into snivelling toothless old man for nought but the joy of it, I doubt he would treat his wife much better. Especially when she's not who she's supposed to be._

Theon had told Asha everything he could in a maddened rush when he first saw her, but the girl had been silent. It seemed to Asha that Lady Bolton only every really spoke to Theon, other than that the girl was silent, and when she wasn't silent she would be crying, which she often was.

That was what had made Asha suspect something was wrong. The girl who should be Arya Stark always became nervous around the Northern lords and clansmen who had been so willing to fight and die for her. That would not have been to strange, girls who go through what she went through were often cautious around men, but she was shy even around the She-bear, Alysanne Mormont. _What could Ned Starks daughter have to fear from her Fathers ever loyal bannermen? Unless she is not Ned Starks daughter._

None of these lords had ever met Arya Stark, none new what she looked like, but Theon did. His confirmation was all they needed to believe that she really was who she claimed to be.

Fake Arya was shivering silently on the horse next to Asha. The closer they got to Castle Black the quieter and more anxious the girl seemed to become. Asha looked over and caught her staring off into the woods, she's thinking about running. She'd die out there on her own, though I doubt she cares at this point.

"My lady," She called, bringing the girls eyes back to the road, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She nodded, "Just cold."

"I'd've thought a northerner like you would be used to weather like this."

The girl shook her head, "I was born in the long summer, this is my first winter. Besides, Winterfell was built over hot springs, the water flows through the walls and keeps the castle warm even on the coldest days."

Asha had heard about this feature. "I remember reading about that somewhere. My mother's brother has one of the biggest libraries on the Iron Islands, I read it in one of his books most like. I also remember reading that it was the hot springs that lead Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen's dragon, Silverwing, to lay a catch of eggs in one of the lower chambers of Winterfell's crypts."

The girl shook her head again, "I'm afraid whoever wrote that must never have visited the crypts at Winterfell."

"And why is that?" Asha asked, glad that the girl was finally speaking and eager to keep the conversation going.

"The crypts are a special place, almost sacred. Only Starks are allowed into them. Sometimes guests, like King Robert, are permitted entry to pay their respects to the dead, but mostly they are shut to outsiders" she sighed. She looked as if she remembering something, and Asha expected that the girl was one of the outsiders to which the crypts had been shut. She remained silent for a moment and Asha feared that she would not speak again, then the girls eyes came back from her memory and she continued, "And even if Queen Alysanne had been allowed in, the only way in is down a steep spiralling stair case far too narrow for a dragon to fit down"

That last comment surprised Asha perhaps she has been down there after all. She hesitated before saying what she said next for she knew it was a risk. She walked her horse closer to the girls and asked in a low voice so no one else would hear, "who let you go down there?"

The girl looked confused, then scared, "no one," she replied, almost indignantly, "I'm a Stark I never needed any permission."

"We both know that's a lie. You don't look like a Stark you don't act like a lady, you're a worse rider than I am, you barely speak to the Northern lords who have come so far to protect you as Ned Starks daughter and every day we move closer to your brother at the wall you seem more and more afraid. Tell me, why would Arya Stark be afraid to speak to her fathers bannermen, or to see her last surviving brother? She wouldn't be. But you are. So it can only be that you are not Arya Stark."

The girl said nothing, Asha wondered if she really would run away now, but she didn't.

"Please," she said quietly, after a long pause, "please you, you can't tell any one."

"I won't. Now who are you?"

"My, my name is Jeyne Poole, my father was Vayon Poole, Steward to Lord Eddard."

"The lord commander will know that when he sees you?"

"Yes."

Asha sighed, the girl was a terrible actress and a worse lady but she did not deserve to die, and Stannis would surely execute her for lying in such a way to so many lords, but even Stannis has to know the consequences of this getting out. All those who followed the Boltons for her sake would have abandoned them for Stannis when they heard he had rescued her, of course it was Theon who really saved her but that's beside the point. If those lords find out she was never really Arya, they might leave Stannis for they would have no reason left to be grateful to him, or they might all leave the Bolton's side for they now know that they have no real Northern claim to Winterfell, and go to Stannis as thanks to him for uncovering this plot. In either case, this girl was one of the only reasons Theon was still alive, his life was his reward for rescuing Ned Starks daughter, but if all he had saved was some stewards whelp… no doubt Stannis would feel a deal less grateful to Theon, and he hadn't been all that grateful to begin

She thought back to her last conversation with Theon, and the deal she had made with Justin Massey. With any luck, Massey will live up to his end of the bargain, and if the Lord Commander has half a brain he'll let me and Theon take her back to the Iron Islands with us. Her original plan had been to run away as soon as Massey released Theon and he reached the wall. Now, they couldn't run with the girl, everyone would think they had Kidnapped her and every man in the north would come hunting after them, so they needed to do it with the Lord commanders permission. That way he could deal with Stannis and no one would question that he was acting with his sisters wellbeing at heart. It could still work, but this way would be a lot harder.

She looked into Jeyne's eyes, they were wide and brown, and full of fear. She was waiting for Asha to say something. She sighed, "well, I hope you and the black bastard got along when you were young."

"I never really spoke to him, he was always with Robb or real Arya or by himself. I was Sansa's best friend and she never really spoke to him either, when ever she spoke about him she only ever called him "our half brother"". She paused for a moment and looked down at her horse, "It was Sansa who too me down into the crypts. We were only 8 or 9 at the time, Arya even younger, maybe 7. They'd been having their lessons with maester Luwin, something about the Targaryen kings, the Conquest I think, and Arya had asked what had happened to them, "king Robert isn't a Targaryen, neither is queen Cersei, if they were the kings and queens then why aren't they the kings and queens now?" She asked him. The maester told her that King Robert and her own Father had overthrown them, but of course then she wanted to know why. So Luwin told her what Rhaegar had done to her aunt Lyanna and what Aerys had done to her grandfather and uncle Brandon. He spared them the details of course but Sansa was still so upset that she decided she should visit the crypts to pay her respects. She would have gone with Arya, but as soon as her lesson was over she ran off to find someone who would tell her all the gory details of Roberts rebellion. It would have only been the second time that Sansa had been down there, and the first time she went Robb and Jon played some jape on her that left her too frightened to ever go there by herself. So she asked me to go with her. I held the candle for us as we went down the steps, they were so icy I was worried I might slip and set us both on fire. We stopped when we reached the highest chamber, that's where the most recent tombs are, and walked right down to the end. When we finally reached the last three tombs, Sansa brought out her own three candles, lit them from the one I was carrying and placed them in the statues hands. Arya was waiting for us when we came out. She was so angry with us both, told me I didn't belong down there," Jeyne had barely looked up from the road for her whole story, but she did now. When she opened her mouth next her eyes were wet with tears of guilt and shame. "I was never kind to Arya, especially not then, what right does she have to be angry with me I thought, Sansa asked me to go and she's so much younger than me, she should be nice to me. So I shouted at her, called her ugly and horse-faced, told her she was an angry, jealous little girl and that was why no one liked her. They were petty insults and I doubt Arya ever cared what I said about her, but my father heard and made me apologise. He explained to me later about lords and ladies, that I should be polite and kind even when Arya is rude, because Arya was a lords daughter, and I am a steward's" she finished.

Asha could see the relief in Jeyne's face now that she had finally told someone the truth. It was clear that the girl had finished speaking now, but the Greyjoy realised something as she considered what she had heard.

"Arya was a Lords daughter? Not Arya is?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeyne didn't answer that, she just sighed softly and closed her eyes. When she opened them again Asha knew she was not Jeyne anymore. The girl may have been a terrible actress but even bad acting is better than none, so until we reach the wall she will be Arya Stark, and then Lord Eddard's daughter really will be dead. But what is dead may never die.

-BRAN I-

He was in the Godswood at Winterfell again, watching the people through the eyes of the heart tree. They were watching the girl again, the one he had thought was Arya but was actually his aunt Lyanna. She was hitting the Weirwood tree with a long, thin, white branch of the same wood. She had stolen a knife from the kitchens and used it to whittle the thing down into something resembling a sword, she had even fashioned a grip for it out of twine. It was poorly made for it was her first attempt and could never function as a proper sword as it was made of wood not steel, but the 10 year old Lyanna Stark was too proud of her sword to care.

"What are you doing?" Called out a voice behind her. She turned to see her older brother stood watching her with his arms folded.

"I'm practicing." She replied defensively, keeping a tight grip on her stick sword.

"Practicing for what?" He laughed, putting his arms down and walking over to her.

"A fight of course." Her brother reached out a hand for her weapon, she snatched it away from him and held it tight to her, but when he looked at her with his eyebrows raised she gave up and handed it to him with an angry huff.

"You made this yourself?" He turned to stick over in his hands, smiling at his sisters attempts at whittling.

"Yes."

"And you've been practicing by yourself?"

"If I'd asked anyone else they would have told father, and he'd have taken it away from me. I thought I might spar with Benjen when you go to the Eyrie." She confessed

"Well, I'm sure Benjen would be happy for the practice, but while I'm sure you're very good at fighting trees, this thing may not survive a fight against a moving opponent. Especially if their sword is made of metal." She scowled at that and kicked at the roots of the tree while she tried to think up a response. "You're right though, anyone else you ask to practice with you will have to tell father, Benjen included. So you'd probably be best off keeping this hidden." He turned the sword around and handed it back to her, hilt first. His sister took it from his hands and smiled at him a huge gap toothed smile.

"So I can keep it? And you won't tell father?"

"Yes, you can keep it, and no I won't tell him."

She smiled at him again, then bent down and brushed away the snow and leaves at their feet to reveal a small gap underneath two roots. She slid the sword into it and covered it again with the snow and leaves.

"All great swords have names you know." He told her.

"I know." She thought for a moment. "Father's sword is Ice, so my sword shall be Snow."

The two siblings began to fade and melt away as Bran came back into to cave that had become his home. As winter approached the days grew colder and the nights grew longer, and the snows outside fell so deep that had Bran and his companions still been out there it would have been buried them where they stood, as it did the wights. The root-cave was different though, protected by the Children's magic and the Old Gods themselves it stayed warm through the winter.

Of late, the three eyed crow had been showing him visions of Winterfell and of his aunt Lyanna more and more. They weren't the only things he saw, not at all, the three eyed crow showed him things he never could have dreamed of. On ravens wings he had flown far to the north and seen the creatures that Old Nan once told him stories about, watched through the eyes of a thousand heart trees as people prayed or played or hid. Once, they had looked back in time through the eyes of the Weirwood at Harrenhal to watch as the great castle burned, and all those inside it were roasted alive. All his life Bran had heard about the Targaryen dragons and Aegon's Conquest, as a child it had seemed dangerous and exciting, the thought of encountering a real live dragon became his greatest desire. However, now that he had seen up close the destructive power of a dragon, he decided that it may be for the best that they were gone. Recently though all of Brans lessons did seem to revolve around Winterfell and around Lyanna especially.

"Why did you show me Lyanna again?" He asked the man in the tree. During his time in the cave, Bran had learned little about his teacher, all that he had been able to find out was that he had been called Bloodraven, for the large wine-stain birthmark that stretched up his neck and jaw in the shape of a raven. Other than that and the fact that he was very old Bran knew little about him, which seemed unfair given that he knew everything there was to know about Bran, bloodraven knew everything about everyone it seemed to Bran.

"You will why for yourself soon enough, but for now you must learn."

"But you never tell me anything!" The boy exclaimed, his teachers frustratingly cryptic lessons were becoming increasingly irritating to Bran. "I've been here for weeks and all I ever do is sit here and watch people who are dead now or live in places so far away and unimportant that I never even new they existed, and then when I finally do learn that I can do something other than watch people through trees and birds you tell me not to do it!"

"Brandon," the crows voice did not change, it stayed the same low tone that it always was, "You have a gift few men in history have ever possessed, and for that reason it is too dangerous to meddle with things. You may have reached out to one person and they may have heard you, but many others have not, and did you ever consider the consequences of calling out to someone?"

A few weeks ago Bran had watched through the heart tree at Winterfell as Theon Greyjoy stood in the godswood. Years ago when he had left Winterfell it had been because of Theon, but the man who had betrayed Brans brother and made him and Rickon prisoners in their own home was not the same man that stood before the Old Gods that night. So Bran had called out his name, and Theon had heard him.

"But Theon heard me twice." He insisted, "first through the tree and then through the ravens. And Jon heard me too I know he did, when I spoke to him through his Raven. If I can speak to them then why not someone from the past? We could change history!"

"Jon Snow heard only a raven, nothing more, and as for the other matter," the old man sighed and would have shaken his head if he could have moved it from the roots. "The past is already written, the ink is dry. You may watch events that have long since taken place but you cannot change them."

At that moment Hodor walked in, followed by one of the singers, the one Meera called Leaf. The great stableboy shuffled over to the Weirwood chair the Bran was sat in and picked him up. He didn't like being picked up in that way, but down in the cave of the three eyed crow many of the tunnel corridors and caverns were too low for him to sit on Hodor's back as he would have preferred.

They began to make their way back to their own compartments with Leaf leading the way in front of them. Looking down at her it was easy to see why the First Men had called them The Children, she was very small, especially next to Hodor, but they didn't look like children up close, they didn't even look like people. But then that's only to be expected, after all, they weren't people, not the sort that Bran was used to.

Back in their own compartments Jojen was already asleep and Meera beside him was beginning to lie down. She looked up when they arrived and rearranged herself into a sitting position.

"Hodor" said Hodor.

"Put me down here Hodor." Bran asked and the gentle giant lowered him onto the ground beneath a snaking white root next to Meera. He pushed himself up on his elbows and twisted the parts of his body that he could so he could face her.

"What did you see this time?" She spoke quietly, and there was a sadness to her voice that had grown ever since they had arrived in cave. He couldn't blame her for that though, she had little and less to do here besides sit around with Jojen waiting for Bran. She was worried for her brother too, his health was deteriorating quickly now and he spent most of his time in fitful, dream filled sleep.

"Lyanna again," he whispered back, "I asked him why he shows me this stuff, but he wouldn't tell me. He shows me her so often now though, there has to be some reason."

Meera looked very serious for a moment, furrowing her brow as if she were debating whether or not to tell him something, "Do you remember the story I was told you," she asked finally, "about the knight of the laughing tree and the tourney at Harrenhal?"

"Yes" I remember everything now. "Why?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, then closed it again and looked away. "It's nothing, I just wondered."

Bran would have pushed it further but she had already turned over to go to sleep, and he did not want to upset her. He too lay down then, closing his eyes and hoping for sleep, but Meera question and the three eyed crows lack of answers were still too heavy in his mind. Opening his eyes again he looked up at the Weirwood root above him, it stuck out of the wall like a handle. It would be a while before he would be tired enough for sleep so he reached up and held it. At first he was unsure what he was looking for, then he realised that seeing Lyanna had made him miss his family. He could not find Arya anywhere, Sansa was in Vale he knew, but there were no creatures around that he could see her through and the only animal that was ever in Rickons presence was Shaggydog and he belonged to his brother, it would be cruel to take him. That left Jon, his half-brother kept a talking pet raven, Bran had seen through it before, now he would do it again.

He gripped the root as hard as he could and reached out into the darkness, through the snows and back past the wall. The room he was being kept in was empty and the window was open, he spread his wings and flapped out, there was blood on the snow far below him and a blonde woman walking quickly away from it and towards the tower he had flown out of. Curios, he flew to the tower that she had been walking away from. All the windows were shut so instead he went towards a chimney that had no smoke emerging and dropped himself down into the room below. There was a tall, ginger man with a thick beard standing over a table and a younger man sitting at the foot obscuring the thing on it from his vision. Three men dressed entirely in black were standing in the corner, eyes fixed on the table. Fly onto the table, the voice inside him called, I have to see.

The door opened then and the blonde woman he'd seen earlier walked in. He tried to stand on the table but the young man swatted a hand at him so he instead perched on the ginger mans shoulder. From there he could see what was on the table. It was Jon. NO, the Voice inside him called, the Raven knew him too. Bran tried to call to him, the Raven could speak he knew it could, it had before.

"Snow," he cried, trying to wake him, to make his brother hear him, "Jon Snow," he tried again, it took all his effort to speak his own words through the raven. Jon did not move in his heart Bran knew he would not, but he had to tried to rouse him one last time, "Jon Snow".

Nothing happened. The ginger man put a hand up to quiet the bird, as one of the three men in the corner said something to the woman. A shape moved beneath him, something big and white, Ghost. As the people kept speaking to each other, the white wolf moved silently towards the table and looked up at the bird. His red eyes were full of fear, but when he saw the raven his expression changed and somehow Bran knew who the wolf was, knew what had happened and knew it was a warg, knew it was Jon.

-DAVOS I-

"We'll be there by dawn." The captain declared, he was a tall, thin man with long, rust coloured hair and a matching beard. Their ship had set out from White Harbour a fortnight ago after Davos had spent almost twice that amount of time finding a ship willing to take him, provisions for the search and a guide for the Island. Eventually he had found all three, so the ship he was on was well stocked with salt pork, hard cheese and plenty of other foods that weren't like go off anytime soon. One of the crew had at one point suggested that he bring some onions, it wouldn't feel right for me to try and do something involving a ship and not have someone make a joke about onions.

His guide was a Crowl named Rennock who had left Skagos for White Harbour 14 years ago. No one else that Davos had spoken to wanted to sail within eyeshot of the island let alone wonder around it looking for people, so Rennock had been a rare find.

The Northern seas were notoriously perilous as Davos himself had learned on his way from East-Watch, but this night the weather was suspicious calm and the water was flat as glass. This only served to make the arrival of a sudden wave brought on by a slight breeze cause the old smuggler to practically jump out of his skin which then made the captain laugh.

"I thought you were a seafaring man ser Davos Seaworth." He said after recovering from his laughter, "tell me, did you jump like that every time a wave hit you on your way to the siege of storms end?"

Davos was used to sailors mocking and japing with him and would usually give his own comment in return or laugh it off as sailors banter, but tonight… the island looming ahead of them and the sudden arrival of the wind had unnerved more than he cared to admit.

"Just a shock is all." Was all he could manage in reply, the captain could see his discomfort though, and clearly decided that he should scare the onion knight further.

"Have you ever heard of Cannibal Bay, Ser Davos?" He began, a horrid smile creeping up his cheek.

"Of course," Davos replied, sucking in a beep breath of air to prepare himself for what ever the captain was about to tell him, "every sailor nears the stories."

"Ahh, but I doubt you've heard this one," the captains eyes gleamed as he began to tell his tale, "You know, of course that the water in Cannibal Bay is permanently frozen, yes, but the reason why isn't know by many in the south."

Davos couldn't help getting irritated at the captains refusal to just tell the story, "alright then, why are the waters always frozen?"

The captains smile fell from his face as his voice took a more sinister tone, "Ice Dragons." He answered, surprising simply. "Great, Frozen beasts, larger even than the dragons that once lived in Valyria. They roam the Shivering Sea and the White Wastes beyond, they're not like the dragons the Targaryens once rode, they breath cold breath, not fire, and are made of living ice. Many believe, myself included, that it's the ice dragons keeping the water in Cannibal Bay frozen. So, good Onion Knight, you may well be right in being frightened. That wave we just felt may well have been sent by the flaps of an ice dragons great wings as he swims the vast oceans beneath us, and the wind you felt could be the echo of an ice dragons cold breath as he freezes that water in a far away Bay."

With that the captains smile returned and he began to walk away, but stopped and turned, "And when you're on that island, you make well and sure to check and caves you feel like sleeping in." Then he turned back again and headed to his cabin, chuckling to himself.

What a nice thought to leave me with, Davos thought to himself once the captain had gone. After the story he'd just been told he knew he would not be able to sleep. He decided instead to go for a walk, no easy task in the middle of the ocean but their ship was a decent size and no one minded too much the old smuggler wandering wherever he pleased. So he set off in a lap around the deck, when halfway round Rennock came up from where the captain had just left not two minutes earlier. The Crowl spotted Davos and walked over to join him.

"Trouble sleeping?" He asked cheerfully, his positive disposition was always rather refreshing to see compared to the ships crew who clearly would rather be sailing anywhere else in the world than to Skagos. well that's only to be expected, he was born there and grew up there, it's his home, he's probably quite happy to be going back.

"Captain thought now would be a good time to tell me about the ice dragons in Cannibal Bay." He answered, unable to match his companions tone, "now don't get me wrong, I love a good Ice Dragon story as much as the next man, but this…" he gestured with his arm to the scenery around them, "I'm not sure if this is quite the best place to be hearing it."

Rennock laughed at that, not unkindly though, it was a reassuring laugh. "You've got nought to fear from ice dragons ser. I grew up out here, I've seen all that Skagos has to offer and trust me it has much to offer, but I've never seen any dragons, ice or no, neither has any man living. If the beasts ever existed then they're gone now, and I can't say I'm not glad about it. No, Ser, you needn't worry, the only dragon you'll ever see is that one there," he pointed up to the sky where the constellation of the ice dragon was shining brightly, it's bright blue eye pointing towards the north, "and you'd best be glad that he is there. He's been watching over the north for thousands of years and if we're going to be searching Skagos for this boy then I for one am glad to have him showing me the way."

They stayed on deck for a while longer, watching as the shape of the island grew closer and closer. Suddenly Davos remembered the conversation he'd heard at the inn in White Harbour what did the man say? They were talking about Rhaegar's siblings, his sister, he wracked his brains for what the man had said, then it came to him, "he told me a pretty tale about a slip of a girl who came aboard at Qarth to try and book passage from back to Westeros for her and three dragons. Silver hair she had, and purple eyes." Rennock may be right about me never having to meet an ice dragon, but something tells me I'll be seeing some other kinds of dragon before too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I know I said every Sunday but I kinda got bored of waiting to post. So this time I’ll say chapter 3 will be up next weekend.
> 
> Ok So for Ned and Lyanna’s ages, I have no clue how old Ned was when he went off to the Eyrie, but for this I’m going to assume he was like 11/12 and Lyanna was only a year or so younger than him I think so that’s why she’s 10 ish in this. If I’m wrong sorry.
> 
> I will be continuing the Davos storyline for a while but he’s a bit of a tricky one to write so he may merge or his character may be covered by another’s point of view later on, who knows. 
> 
> Please comment and give feedback or improvements, I appreciate it a lot.


	3. A Memorable Shade

-AEGON I-

The golden company had been on the march for a week and finally, they were here. Storms End was under siege, if you can call that a siege. There were barely a thousand men there, next to no siege weapons and no perimeter. The whole of Aegon's army had been able to come in and surround what remained of the Tyrell forces, the rest had marched off, Gods know where to, leaving their men laughable vulnerable to attack.  They don't expect anyone to be against them, they believe they are ending a war between two the usurpers, Stannis and Tommen Baratheon, but this war has just begun and we shall come with fire and blood.

He rode at the front of their host, beside him to the right sat Lord Jon Connington, his adoptive father and most trusted adviser. To his left sat homeless Harry Strickland. The commanded of the Golden Company had started to show some more confidence in their endeavour once the remainder of their fleet had arrived, especially when the ships carrying their elephants had turned up on Tarth. Some had still not returned and were presumed sunk, but many more had arrived safely, and with each ship came more men who would fight for his cause.

"Lord Connington," He said, trying to sound as formal and princely as he could, "I would have you find the commanders of both the castle garrison and the Tyrell host and bring them our terms."

"Of course, your Grace," Jon replied, as Aegon knew he would, "what are to be our terms?"

He thought for a moment. He had discussed the deal they would offer to the opposing armies with all of his advisors whilst on the march, but no one could agree on anything. This meant that Aegon had spent his past few days trying to decide on exactly what they would offer his enemies.

"They must surrender to us now, all the men must lay down their arms or may, if they so wish, join our army and fight on the winning side." He decided. They had a large army already, and the few men here would make little difference to his cause, especially once Daenerys gets here. But more men would not be a bad thing for them. "Furthermore, both Lord Mathis Rowan, commander of the Tyrell forces, and Gilbert Farring who commands the Baratheon garrison inside the castle must give themselves over to be our hostages until such a time as we can trust in their and their liege lords loyalties."

Jon nodded at that, showing his approval, "and if they refuse these terms? If we come to battle, do you still intend to fight?"

Aegon almost laughed at that, "they'd be fools to refuse. We have twenty times as many men as they do but if it is so, then yes, and not only will I fight, my Lord, I will lead the charge." He could see that that troubled Jon and he could not blame him. Lord Jon Connington had been his father Rhaegar's best friend, and had always been like a substitute father to Aegon in his stead. I know that he is only trying to keep me from harm, but I am not a child anymore, I can fight my own battles now.

"Shall I bring these terms to them now, your grace," asked the lord of Griffins Roost, with a hint of disapproval in his voice that irritated Aegon more than it should have done, have some faith in me Griff, you yourself brought the best swordsmen you could find to train me for combat. He did not voice his concerns, for he knew better than to bring up such issues in the presence of the Golden Company generals. "Yes," he replied, trying his best to mask his emotions, "Lord Rowan first then lord Farring."

_His mentor gave him a final nod and rode off toward the camp before them._

_As Aegon waited for Jon, he felt the evening growing darker, and colder. He was forced to don a warmer cloak to protect himself against the worst of the weather and once night had fallen no man dared be out of his tent, for the famous Storms End winds were blowing and brought the temperature down even further, I dread to think what the weather will be like when we have to march North, at times like these I envy Daenerys the weather she has in Meereen or wherever it is she's flown off to in Essos._

_It was well past midnight before the Jon returned, looking even less pleased than he had when he rode off. The young prince had been discussing possible battle tactics and plans for after they took Storms End with Harry Strickland, Black Balaq, Lysono Maar, Gorys Edoryen and Ser Franklyn Flowers._

_"Well?" Homeless Harry asked, suddenly looking very anxious again, "what did they say?"_

_Aegon truly hoped that Jon had been able to persuade them to stand down, much as he was keen to prove himself to those who follow him he understood the value of a bloodless victory. To his disappointment however, Jon shook his head, "Neither one will surrender. They said they would not kneel before a pretender and a usurper."_

_Aegon despised the fact that these men would call him these things, they have the nerve to call me a usurper, they who served the man who killed my father and stole my grandfathers throne! "Very well then," he said, still bristling with anger, balling his fists and ready to show everybody who he really was, a Targaryen. "We attack at dawn." He turned first to Black Balaq, "have your archers ready before then, and check you have sufficient arrows." Balaq nodded and exited the tent, bracing himself slightly against the winds. Next, Aegon turned to Harry Strickland, "As we have previously discussed, I shall be leading the vanguard with Lord Connington, if he will do me the honour," Jon seemed all too happy to oblige this, so he continued, "so I have decided that you shall be in command of the cavalry." The captain-general could not argue with that, being on horseback would give him a distinct advantage over those on foot, and if he was commanding he would not necessarily have to lead. After considering these things he decided this was his best option, "You honour me, your grace. I shall serve you well there." Harry then exited the tent himself to go and make the necessary arrangements for the cavalry charge. Lastly, Aegon turned to Lysono Maar, Gorys Edoryen and Ser Franklyn, the bastard of Cider Hall. "I believe you all know what you must do now while we wait." The three men agreed and went off to fulfil their own separate tasks._

Now that only Prince Aegon and Jon Connington remained in the tent, the Young prince let out a sigh and sat back heavily into his chair, massaging his temples to relieve some of his stress.

"You're doing well," Jon told him, "you've shown excellent leadership and the captains respect you for it. You were made for command, Aegon, this is where you belong."

It felt good to hear that Jon still had faith in him, "You think so?" He asked, smiling now that he knew he was doing well. When the lord of Griffins Roost replied, there was not a shadow of a doubt in his voice and the Prince could see that he meant every word.

"I do, your grace. And I have no doubt that when they finally see you out there, not one person in the seven kingdoms will ever be able to call you a pretender again."

That certainly helped to calm the young prince, but he still had to ask, "Why is that, my lord?"

Jon smiled at that, a warm, proud smile that Aegon had not seen on him in a long time, "How could they not know you, your grace. They need only see you, your hair your eyes to know that you were the blood of the dragon, Aegon the Dragon come again."

The prince laughed at that, remembering Tyrion's words, "is that funny?" Jon asked him, slightly taken aback.

"No" he said, "it's just something Tyrion told me once, about Daenerys. "She is a sacker of cities, the mother of dragons. Aegon the Conqueror with teats." He told me.We can't both of us be Aegon the first, can we."

Jon seemed thoughtful at that, "no I don't suppose you can."

"Well, I do not need to be any of my ancestors, I shall be king Aegon VI Targaryen and no one else, for I shall be a better ruler than all those who came before me, whether Daenerys is with me or not." He declared, it felt good to embrace who he was going to be in that way, and knowing that with or without his aunt, he had the power to retake what was his by rights.

-SANSA I-

The snow at the gates of the moon fell deeper every day. Sansa wanted nothing more than to go out and play in it as she had in the Eyrie, but she knew that would be unladylike and she had to control herself and stay inside. Little lord Robert hated the snow and the cold, mostly because it was what had forced him to move out of the Eyrie and down to the gates of the moon, and also because it made his shaking sickness worse. Since they’d arrived Roberts condition had deteriorated to the stage where he not walk unaided without falling into a deep shaking fit.

It was mostly Sansa who had to see him in this state as she was the only one who could ever persuade him to do anything. This morning was no different. She was woken by one of her maids who then helped her dress and prepare to go down into the Lower Hall to break her fast, only for Maester Coleman or another maid to come in and tell her that she was needed in Lord Roberts chambers.

"Now then, my Sweetrobin," she called out as she entered the lords chamber, "whatever is the matter?" She spoke as softly and as patiently as she could considering what she really wanted to do was slap the boy until he just did as he was told.

"I need help getting to breakfast." He told her, simply enough which took her slightly aback, she normally had to barter with him for a while before he would agree to do as she asked "I want you to help me down, no one else can do it right. They aren't tall enough."

She walked over to her cousin and placed one hand just below his right armpit and held out the other for him to hold onto. Robert had always been a small child and abnormally skinny for one of his age. This made him very easy to catch if he was ever about to stumble, which he often did. He seemed to be doing quite well today, better than he had done in a while, but the sight of his skinny little legs struggling to make their steps made her feel uneasy for several reasons.

The first was that every time she saw how skinny and sickly he was she was reminded of Lord Baelish's plan, and how the whole plot rested on the hope that this one little boy was going to die. Every time Sansa thought about this plan she became more and more sure that her father would be ashamed of her if he knew that she was going along with it.

Secondly, anyone who looked at Robert could see very clearly just how frail he was. In winter the Vale would need a strong, confident lord who knew how to keep his people alive, not a sickly little boy who could barely even stand on his own two feet.

The final reason was that it reminded her of her brother Bran. Who was now dead. Is this what life was like for him? She had asked herself more than once, did he spend his final days stumbling around using Rickon as a walking stick, or could he truly not use his legs at all and had to have a servant carry him everywhere he wished to go? Many times Mya or Myranda had caught her in these thoughts, forcing her to tell some lie about why she seemed so sad.

Since her father had been appointed Hand of the King, Sansa had lost her wolf Lady, both of her parents, her sister and all three of her brothers. Robb had been murdered at their uncles wedding, along with their mother and Robb’s wolf Grey Wind. Robb had been a King fighting a war, but Bran and Rickon had been children. They had been murdered by Theon Greyjoy, a man both they and Sansa had considered family.  no more, he lost that right when he betrayed Robb, and he lost it some more when he burnt my real brothers alive.

The loss which hurt Sansa the most however, was that of her sister. No one knew what had befallen Arya Stark after their father Ned had been taken prisoner. Sansa had been locked in a room with her friend Jeyne Poole while the fighting happened, and she had been so preoccupied firstly with keeping Jeyne calm and later with writing letters for Cersei that she had completely forgotten to ask where her sister was. I should have been with her. We should have stayed together, we were family, we were the pack.

They arrived at breakfast quite early today, largely thanks to Roberts efficiency in getting dressed and ready. The Lower Hall was quiet and had only a few people sat eating, some noble guests and their children. Over in one corner Sansa saw Mya Stone and Myranda Royce talking quietly to each other, she had grown quite fond on the two and considered them her friends. Once she had taken Robert up the his seat at the height table and explained to him once again that a bastard such as herself had no place up amongst the lords, she turned and walked back over to Mya and Myranda. As she grew closer she could begin to hear what they were saying.

"Are you sure?" Mya asked.

"Completely," Myranda told her, looking much less cheerful than usual, "I heard it off one of Littlefinger's guards, they stabbed the poor lad to death, sent him right off to join his siblings." They both looked up and smiled when they noticed Sansa approaching. "Alayne, come sit with us."

Sansa took the seat beside Mya and called to a servant for some bread and a drink. She would have asked the other girls what they were talking about but they had already changed topic and Sansa wasn't sure if she could cope with hearing any murder stories at breakfast.

It was Mya who was speaking now, "Have you heard about Storms End?" She asked them, her eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and excitement. "Apparently the Golden Company defeated both the Tyrell host besieging it and the Baratheon garrison inside. Heard they've taken Tarth and Griffins Roost too."

Sansa didn't know much about the people Mya was talking about but she knew they were a free company from Essos, "Why are the Golden Company attacking castles in Westeros?" She asked.

Myranda smiled and seemingly ignored Sansa's question, "I heard that as well, they landed on the eastern coast with a fleet of ships bringing 20,000 men and war Elephants too."

"War elephants!" Sansa had never seen an elephant but she had heard they were monstrous things.

"Aye, elephants." Myranda replied, beaming at the reaction she had received, "and to answer your question Alayne, the Golden Company have pledged their services to a man claiming to be prince Rhaegar's son, Aegon Targaryen." That has to be a lie, both of Prince Rhaegar's children were murdered, She told herself. Again, Myranda almost laughed at Sansa's reaction, "I know, I know, I thought the same. Prince Aegon had his head bashed in by the mountain before he was even old enough to know he was a prince. Being a Targaryen is a bold claim to lay in this country, most like he is a pretender who doesn't know what the hell he's doing but hoped his looks might fool us Westerosi. After all, there's hundreds of people of Valyrian descent in the world, most come from Lys. Truth is, there's only one Targaryen left in the world now." The look on Myranda's face changed then as she waited for someone to as her, she almost looked afraid. Mya and Sansa looked at each other then back to Myranda, both waiting for her to continue.

Finally Sansa gave in and asked "Who?"

"Daenerys Targaryen," the older girl answered, she was not smiling now. For some reason, that name sounded so familiar to Sansa, she had heard it before she knew it but she couldn't place where, Myranda continued before she could sort out her thoughts, "The mad kings daughter, Rhaegar's sister. Her and her other brother Viserys were the last Targaryens in Westeros until Stannis Baratheon chased them both of Dragonstone, that must've been right after she was-"

Sansa cut her off, "Her brother, Viserys, he was murdered wasn't he. Some horse lord poured molten gold over his head." I guess I am ready to tell murder stories at breakfast. Her friends looked impressed, if not slightly irritated at being interrupted.

"I hadn't known that was what happened," Myranda leaned forwards in her seat, "how'd you know that?"

"Oh, I think Father must have told me." Her friends believed her well enough, and sansa was rather proud of her lie.

"Anyway, all this is very interesting," Mya chipped in now, in a voice that suggested she thought otherwise, "but I believe you were telling us about the sister?"

"Aye, that I was," Myranda picked up her cup and took a large gulp of ale before continuing, "Daenerys, I'd never heard much of her until a year or so ago. Apparently the girl had some qualms with the slave masters. So she sacked all the cities in Slavers Bay, and is now ruling as the Queen of Meereen."

Mya almost looked angry at that, but she laughed it off easily enough, "Do you seriously expect us to believe that some little girl from a dead family has singlehandedly brought down the whole of the eastern slave trade?"

"Yes." Myranda countered, in a colder voice than before, "I do, because it's true but she didn't do it singlehandedly, and this is the interesting bit." The older girl leaned in even further over the table and the other two copied her. "Every time I hear a rumour about the Silver Queen, rumours about her children come with it," she shook her head as if she expected them to know what she meant. They didn't. "She has dragons. Three of them."

That shut the others up. Mya looked as if she was about to storm out, and Sansa's brain, for some reason, too her back to her lessons with maester Luwin. The dragons are dead, the last one died over 100 years ago, maester Luwin told us that, She has to be lying.

Before Sansa had a chance to ask any further questions a man appeared behind her. She recognised him as one of Littlefingers hedge knights. "Can I help you Ser?" She tried to be polite as always but the man made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Yes, Alayne. I apologise for interrupting your breakfast but your father has requested your presence in his chambers immediately and has asked me to escort you there."

She nodded her consent and said goodbye to her friends. The recent change in weather had forced her to adopt warmer clothes even when inside. Today she wore a simple, high-necked, burgundy wool dress with intricate floral patterns on the hem, sleeves and neckline in copper thread that she had embroidered herself. Sansa had chosen the colours specifically as they helped to make her hair appear more brown and less auburn. She had almost run out of the hair dye that Littlefinger had given her, which was not good as she still needed to be Alayne for a little while longer.

As they walked towards Lord Baelish's chambers, the hedge knight began to engage her in some polite conversation, which she was happy enough to return at the start, but after a while his questions changed. He asked her several time is she had ever know a woman named Brienne, or if she'd ever in encountered a tall young woman wearing mans mail, though Sansa suspected that this Brienne was the tall young woman he asked about so much.

By the time they had reached their destination, Sansa was convinced that this man knew more about her than he was letting on. She walked into littlefingers room intent on telling him about Ser Shadrich's questions and her own suspicions, but it was plain to see that he was in no mood for anymore problems today.

"Take a seat." Was all he said. As she did she noticed that he was holding a piece of paper and her heart began to beat faster. "I have news for you. Your half brother, Jon Snow, I've had a friend of mine keep his eyes on him for you." Sansa was surprised that Baelish would watch out for her family, and she suspected that he had his own reasons. He reached across and took her hands in his. "I am so sorry, my love. He is dead, he tried to bring the wildlings through the wall so they could all fight a greater foe together. But his brothers in the nights watch didn't like that so they turned on him."

Sansa felt as if she could not breath. Jon had never been her favourite sibling, they had never been close at all but he had been the last family she had. Looking back she realised that this must've been who Myranda was talking about, she was right, he has gone to join his sibling, our siblings. I am the last Stark now, I must be brave, I must be strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, basically I’m a bit of an idiot and I’ve only just now discovered how to do HTML text, so sorry to everyone who’s had to read all my previous wor without any italics. I’ll be honest I’m still not entirely sure how they work because I just had to go through this thing 4 times to get it right so if anything is wrong, sorry.
> 
> *The title “A Memorable Shade” is a line from Baelish in the show. I thought it would work well for this one as both Aegon and Sansa have very distinct hair colours.  
It’s a bit of a short chapter this time but it is still important overall I promise. Chapter four will be up next week.  
Also does anyone else worry that their going to send their teacher\lecturer one of their fics instead of the school who you were trying to send them, cos it’s one of my biggest fears at the moment.


	4. Who Can Know The Heart Of A Dragon

-ARYA II-

Pentos was a beautiful city, very different from Braavos. The city had high walls surrounding it, and many of the wealthy Pentoshi had walls equally as high surrounding their Manses and estates. On the Eastern side of the city was the sunrise gate and to the west way the bay of pentos leading into the narrow sea.

The troop of actors had arrived by the sea barely two days earlier, in another two days they would set off again and sail for Volantis, then Mantarys a few days after that, from there Arya would leave and make her own way to Elyria. There was good trade in Elyria she knew, it wouldn’t be hard to find a ship from there.

The stage they had in Pentos was much nicer than the one they had had in Braavos, and much bigger so the audience they received was twice as large as the largest they’d had before. After Mercy had said her lines and sat down at the prop table to watch “Joffrey” drink the poison, she looked out at the audience and spotted a man in one of the small enclosed box areas that were reserved for the wealthy of Pentos. The man was very fat, probably the fattest person she had ever seen, fatter even than king Robert had been, and his beard was shaped and tied into three prongs. He was eating food that she had never seen before but looked far to rich for her. For some reason that she couldn’t figure out, she had the feeling that she had seen this man before. Her train of thought was broken however when the boy playing the king in front of her began to choke and fell to the floor.

That night, the crew went to one of the winesinks that they always loved to visit in the evening before the men went out to seek a different kind of entertainment, Mercy sometimes went with them but she was tired tonight and not in the mood for the unwelcome attention that she always seemed to attract from men far too old for her. Instead she said her good nights and went back to the inn that they were staying in. In her room she changed out of her clothes and looked through her bag to check that everything was still there, it was.

She picked up the small glass bottle that was the reason she was here. _You’ve given the gift before she told herself this time is no different from the others, I have the gift and Mercy’s face, that’s all I need._ _Everything is just fine._ But it wasn’t, she was scared.

As she lay in her bed she thought back to Winterfell, to the lessons she- _no not me, Arya, Arya had those lessons_\- to what Maester Luwin had taught Arya about dragons. They had been magic, they had been what had given the Targaryens their power, but they were also the most dangerous creatures in the world. Arya had seen the effects of dragon fire when she was a prisoner at Harrenhal, where Balerion the dread had roasted Harren the Black alive inside the walls of his keep. _Not just Aegon and Balerion, there was Rhaenys on Meraxes and Visenya on Vhagar._

All the Targaryen dragons had died over a hundred years ago though, and all the others had died during the Doom of Valyria three hundred years before that, _but now she has them_. In Braavos she’d heard tales about the Silver Queen in Slavers Bay almost every day, and hardly any of them had been good; _“she feeds little children to her dragons.” “She burns alive all those who she does not like.” “She crucified all of the Meereenese noblemen and let her dragons have their families.”_ She had heard some other tales about the Queens nighttime activities, but she was sure that these rumours had come from men who were all secretly wishing that they could be the ones sharing the Queens bed.

Part of Mercy suspected that the things he heard had been heavily exaggerated and twisted or in some cases just completely made up, just as the play she was in had been. But she still remembered all that Arya had learned about the Targaryen kings and queens. There was a saying in Westeros, _“Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin, every time a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”_

Arya Stark’s grandfather and uncle had been murdered by the mad King, and her aunt Lyanna had been kidnapped by prince Rhaegar, the Queen of Meereen was the mad kings daughter, Rhaegar’s sister, _why should she be any different?_

Mercy sighed and tried to put those thoughts out of her head, there was no point in worrying about it. The other actresses in the troop would be arriving back anytime now and there was still one thing she had forgotten to do. She slipped her hand under her mattress and pulled out her skinny little sword. After the kindly man had given her her task, she had left the House of Black and White and counted down the stairs until she found the one that she had hidden Needle under, to her relief it had still been there.

Arya sat there for a moment, admiring her sword and practicing her grip, _needs sharpening, ill find a wet stone and oil cloth when I next visit the market_. With that thought in mind she reached over and slid Needle back into its hiding place. She closed her eyes and hoped for a wolf dream,_ I wonder if it’s still snowing in the Riverlands._

-BARRISTAN II-

“How can you trust this man?” Asked Symon Stripeback. “They came into our city looking for war.”

“He came here for our Queen,” Tal Toraq of the stalwart shields backed him up, “they would haven taken her away and make her dragons their own.”

Other disapproving comments and hateful boos were thrown around the table before Ser Barristan could calm everyone down.

“I understand that you think I was wrong,” he began, trying to stay calm in the panic that had taken over the small council, “Victarion Greyjoy did come here to marry Queen Daenerys yes, but luckily she was not here, and is already wed besides. You may think you know how the Ironborn are, you may have heard stories, but you will never know them like I do. I fought against them in their rebellion against king Robert. I know better than all of you here who they are so I would never trust a Greyjoy, and I would never let one marry our Queen. However,” this was the part he needed them to understand, “Victarion has a fleet, and we had an army we needed to send back to their own city. This move has both rid us of the Yunkish army and given us some more time to await Daenerys’ return and keeps the iron fleet away, for a little while at least.”

The council looked at one another, they knew he was right but it did little to soothe their minds.

“And when they get back from Yunkai,” the shavepate asked, “and Queen Daenerys has still not returned, what will happen then? You say you know these heathens, what do you think they will do if we cannot give them what they ask for?”

He had a point, Barristan knew what they would do as did everyone else there, but there would be little and less that they could do in that case.

“If that happens then we shall have to deal with it when the time comes, but for now we have other matters to discuss.” Selmy looked over and nodded to the captain of the unsullied.

Greyworm sat up straighter in his seat. “The free companies have all now joined our cause, we are still holding their captains and,” he searched for the right term, “_the others, _in the cells to ensure their loyalty.”

“If they have joined the Queens cause then surely we should not punish them for former crimes, we should release their captains and make use of the men they have given us.” Suggested the Green Grace reasonably, but Symon of the Free Brothers scoffed at that idea.

“you would have us accept these turncloaks? They were pledged to the Yunkish and betrayed them, Brown Ben Plumm has changed sides what, three, four times since he first met our Queen. The only things stopping them from betraying us again are the captains we have in our cells.”

“He’s right.” Daario Naharis chose this moment voice his own opinions.

The captain of the Stormcrows had not fared all that well in the Yunkish camp after Daenerys flew away. Their captors had clearly not enjoyed Naharis’ company as much as the Queen had. His face showed signs of beatings though they weren’t like to have effected him all that much, what did affect him was that the Yunkish had relieved him of his purple hair and three pronged beard leaving his face completely bald.

“The sellswords won’t act without their captains and if we have them then they’ll have to stay with us.”

Ser Barristan thought for a moment while the others continued to argue. After the council could come to no agreement they all turned to the Old knight, waiting for him to tell them he they should proceed.

“My lords, my lady,” he knew the Meereenese were less than keen on these forms of address but they were the terms he was used to, “many of these men we have taken are valuable prisoners, we cannot set them free or they may turn against us, neither can execute them as then their men would turn against us. I believe that the safest course of action would be to wait for the Queen to return and let her decide what we do with them”

Everyone in the council sighed collectively at that, save perhaps Greyworm.

“With all respect, Artstan,” the person who now spoke up was one who had been uncharacteristically quiet this meeting.

Strong Belwas had now fully recovered from the locust incident and attended all the small council meetings, but it was clear that he too was struggling with Daenerys’ abandonment.

“I understand your reluctance to make a decision, but this is your council. You are the Queens _Hand_ yes, and in her absence you preside over these meeting and you have to make these decisions.”

He was right. Everyone there knew it.

“Very well then.” He had no choice now, he had to decide. “We shall keep the captains here as honoured guests, stripped of weapons they shall be free to roam which ever regions of the pyramid we grant them. Ser Jorah Mormont and Tyrion Lannister will be given similar places of honour, but they shall be confined to their chambers until Queen Daenerys returns, I know this may not be what you want but it’s a start and it’s the most peaceful option.”

No one said anything this time, Barristan hoped it was because they were respecting his orders, but he knew they were likely unhappy with his decision. He himself wasn’t entirely sure about what to do with their _honoured guests_ from Westeros.

Lord Tyrion was a Lannister, his family helped depose Daenerys’, what would she do with him? pardon him, take him on as an advisor? Or would she simply execute him?

“Now,” The councils mutterings had died down now and Ser Barristan was eager to change the topic of their conversation, “We have yet to decide how best to deal with the dragons.”

“Leaving them alone seems to be working very well so far.” Suggested the shavepate.

“So far yes, but when they grow bored, when they decide they wish to hunt further from Meereen? What will we do then? How can we protect the people from the Queens children?” _And the Queens children from the people._ Barristan already had a plan in mind, though given the recent incident with Quentyn Martell and his untimely death, he did not expect the councillors to be on board.

“As you all now,” he began, “a few weeks ago the Dornishman, Quentyn Martell, took a group of men from the windblown and broke into the dragon pit beneath the city and attempted to train one of the dragons.”

“And we all know how well that went for him.” The shavepate said sarcastically.

“Yes, we do all know how that went, but have any of you been yet to speak with the survivors of that mishap?” He knew that hadn’t. “Well, my Lords, my Lady, if you had you would know that upon their arrival Viserion stopped to look at each participant in turn, and the person he spent the longest time investigating was the woman known as Pretty Meris. It is my belief that the dragon recognised that the Meris was a woman and was reminded of him mother, I told the maester of my suspicions and he confirmed.”

He looked to Marwyn to help now. The Maester sucked in his breath, which must have been a difficult feat given the massive chain he wore around his neck. Ser Barristan has never seen half of the metals that it was made of, but there was one that could not be mistaken, Valyrian steel, Marwyn had told him that it showed that he had studied the higher mysteries of the world. Barristan had gone to him with his plans as he knew this man knew more about the dragons than anyone, save mayhaps Queen Daenerys.

“Aye, it is more than possible that Ser Barristan is correct in thinking this. During my time in the citadel I conducted more research into the magic of dragons than any other man alive today, all reports on the Targaryen dragons of old say the same thing, dragons are intelligent, more intelligent than men I would say. So I do believe Viserion recognised the Meris woman’s gender and I think it’s entirely possible, likely, even, that the dragons could be approached by a person or persons that they know and associate with Queen Daenerys.”

At that the council looked stunned. Almost everyone there knew the Queen but none would be willing to go near the dragons with out her, and I can’t say I blame them, the mere thought of it is enough to terrify me. After a few moments of silence, someone finally spoke up; it was Greyworm.

“Ser Barristan, this one would be honoured to serve you in this if you command so.” The old knight was grateful for his loyalty, but he had no intention of putting anyone but himself in this position.

He opened his mouth to try and explain this to the Unsullied captain, but before he could he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Missandei was standing behind him, her big golden eyes glancing nervously around the council table. Daenerys’ little scribe had attended all of the council meetings at the Hands behest so that she might learn more of politics, but she had never before contributed anything herself.

“Ser, I was oft in the dragons presence when working with the queen, they never once tried to harm me.” Barristan had spent several weeks trying to teach the child to refer to herself as “I” and not “this one”, it made him smile to hear her say it now. “If Maester Marwyn is right, then I do not believe that the they would do me any harm now either. I should like to go with Grey Worm when he goes.”

Now it was Barristan turn to be speechless, _how can a girl so young offer herself for a task that grown warriors condemn?_ He was going to turn her offer d own as well, but the maester interrupted him this time.

“Much as I would hate to put a child in such danger my lord Hand, I fear she may be the best person for this task. Child, tell me again, what is your name?”

“Missandei, Maester.”

“And were you not the queens most trusted friend, handmaiden and scribe?”

The child paused as though she was unsure that she could refer to herself as the queens “most trusted” friend. “Yes maester, I am.”

Barristan smiled at that, “I am”, not “was”, she still believed in their queen even if the council didn’t. “Very well then, it seems you will be facing the dragons Missandei. As will I.”

The unsullied captain looked at him expectantly. “And Greyworm.”

The doors to the Pyramid of Uhlez were not as large as the ones of the Great Pyramid, but they were twice as grand. They were made from white marble and had swirling patterns of gold inlay which Barristan presumed were depicting the wealth and rise of the great family of Uhlez. It took four unsullied to open each door.

Once all three of them and the cart were in the soldiers closed doors behind them, and the only light n the room came from their torches. Greyworm went at the front, his weapons were not drawn but his hands were ready to bring them out at a moments notice. Missandei went behind him, pushing the cart in front of her; it carried two dead sheep. Ser Barristan brought up the rear. Like Greyworm, he kept his sword sheathed so as to not aggravate Viserion.

It was not as difficult to find the creature as he might have thought in a space that large, they simply had to follow the burn marks along the wall and they arrived into a heated bathroom,_ I suppose a dragon would go for the hottest place it could find. _Steam rose from the tub in the centre of the room and at first none of them could see a thing, but as they walked further into the room their eyes adjusted.

The two in front of stopped abruptly, and Barristan almost walked straight into Missandei. They were looking into the water. He walked around to see what they were looking at, suddenly very aware of his footfalls in the deafening silence. Under the boiling water of the bath lay the remains of what had to be at least thirty people, all the poor people that could not get out in time, servant that the Uhlez’ did not deem important enough to save, most like.

The old knight was surprised at the dragons cleanliness. Viserion had thrown the bones in there on purpose, to stop his layer from smelling and keep his space free of clutter, if that’s his reason then it’s a good sign we were right about their intelligence.

The three would-be dragon tamers looked at each other, the room was completely silent now that they had stopped moving, even the water was still. No one wanted to move, as if even the slightest motion would set of the monster that they all new was in there with them.

Then a noise came cutting through the silence. Even greyworm looked afraid as the sound of a thousand vipers hissing echoed around the room, stirring up the pool so that the water hummed and droplets jumped and danced on the surface. The dragon came next. Viserion emerged from behind an archway on the other side of the room. It’s body was low, pressed against the floor, crawling around the bath and then pulling itself up the wall and onto the ceiling.

It only stopped moving when it was right above them, it’s pale neck twisting down to see who had disturbed it. It scanned the three of them, then opened its jaws and the back of its throat began to glow white hot. Ser Barristan feared that his theory had been wrong, that they would all burn to death and end up as nothing more that black bones at the bottom of bath tub. His arms reached automatically for Missandei, holding her tightly around her shoulders as if that would somehow protect her from the fate that awaited her, _my fault_.

Then, to the old knights complete surprise, the little girls pushed away from him and dashed back to the cart, the dragons mouth closed as his eyes narrowed on the child. Missandei reached around the dead sheep and pulled something out of the cart. It was one of Daenerys’ dresses, the kind she wore when she didn’t have to wear a Tokar.

The little girl held the dress up for the dragon, her face was turned up so she could see the animal on the ceiling. The two of them stayed there for a moment, two sets of golden eyes locked together, until the dragon moved its head down to smell the dress Missandei was holding. The girl was so small that the dragon had to detach itself from the ceiling and drop onto the floor to be able to properly inspect the item in her hands. It did not take long for Viserion to recognise the smell on the dress, _he missed her, just like we do. _

After it had seen what the dress was, the dragon took a long time in looking over Missandei, Ser Barristan could not help but be afraid for the girl, but to both his and, though he did not show it, Greyworm’s surprise, she almost looked happy and far more comfortable in the company of a dragon than that of the Meereenese. Finally, the dragon seemed to decide that these three people were safe. Ser Barristan watched as it opened its jaws again, a foul smell of charred meat and rotting flesh emanating from its mouth, and gently took the dress in Missandei’s arms between his teeth and went back behind the archway he had emerged from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this one isn’t the best I know. There was meant to be another character POV in this chapter because I like having 3 POVs per chapter but the character just really didn’t fit so I left it.  
The title is a quote from the books (I’m pretty sure, it’s been a while since I named this one or read the books) it’s definitely in Fire & Blood.  
Things are going to start getting more exciting real soon I promise. If you want me to upload more frequently I can try or I can eep doing once a week if you all are fine with that.  
Please let me know what you think, all opinions are valid and appreciated (but please don’t be mean) and i’d love to know what you think is going to happen. Hope you’ve enjoyed!


	5. Everywhere In The World They Hurt Little Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: attempted rape

-AEGON II-

Storms end was a beautiful castle, and the greatest victory Aegon had had so far.

The battle had gone well, for the most part. The remaining Tyrell troops had put up as a good a fight as could be expected. But the skill and size of the Golden Company’s army had prevailed. They had lost less than a hundred men. Upon seeing the carnage outside his keep, Gilbert Farring yielded Storms End to Prince Aegon. Or more precisely, Ser Jon Connington.

Griff had taken care of the surrender and take over of the castle as he had emerged from the battle unscathed. The same could not be said for Aegon. The young prince had insisted on leading the charge, and though he was recovering well and no longer bed bound, he had received several injuries during the battle.

The first injury was an arrow through his left shoulder. It had nocked him from his horse, causing him to be trampled by several of the soldiers behind him. Aegon had recovered from his fall easily enough and cut his way to the front again. There he received a stab wound to his right leg, a Tyrell soldier had sliced his calf as Aegon had walked past the man he assumed was a corpse. Shortly before the battle was done the boy had been hit in the head, though he could not remember by who so he had been rendered unconscious and was unable to accept Farring’s surrender. 

Now they were beginning the talks and plans for the rest of his invasion, the maester had finally deemed Aegon well enough to resume his normal routine.

As he walked along one of Storms Ends many curving corridors, he came across his former adoptive father staring out of a window.

“Jon.” Aegon called, endlessly relieved to see his most trusted advisor.

“Your Grace.” Jon gave his typical brooding bow to his future king.

“You didn’t come to see me. When I was recovering I mean.”

The prince was slightly disappointed by the mans attitude. He had been gravely wounded after all, bed bound for over a fortnight, and still Jon had not come to see him once.

“Forgive me your Grace, I was preoccupied.” Jon looked guilty about something, but for some reason Aegon could not believe it had anything to do with neglecting his adoptive son.

The prince reached out to shake Jon’s hand, to thank the man for ruling in his absence. But to Aegon’s surprise Jon stepped back, avoiding the lad’s touch and using his own gloved hand instead to produce a scroll from his pocket.

“We’ve received a raven your Grace.” He said, handing the prince the scroll. “From Dorne.”

Aegon read the letter as quickly as he could. He was good at reading.

“Princess Arianne?” The boy frowned. He had heard of Arianne Martell but knew nothing of her save her age and status as heir to Dorne. Aegon held the scroll out for Jon to take. “Why would she come here?”

“To discuss an alliance I should expect.” Jon took the scroll back.

“But why not Prince Doran, or one of his sons?” Aegon felt slightly offended by the mans shortness with him today.

“I cannot say your Grace, but we both know the best way to form alliances. And the Martells do have a drop of the dragons blood too.” Jon raised his eyebrows at the boy.

“Not as much as my aunt does.”

Aegon had heard this conversation from so many people it was beginning to bore him. He had been told since birth that Daenerys Stormborn would be his queen, that she would stand beside him and give him sons of pure Valyrian blood. Now things were more difficult. Daenerys was a Queen in her own right now, she had people to rule, a powerful army to command and three young but fast growing dragons to help her should she ever decide to claim her fathers throne. The very same throne with Aegon planned to take.

“I will discuss their peace, but you said yourself I must remain unwed until Daenerys gets here.”

“As you wish your Grace.” Jon bowed and the two men parted ways once more.

A few weeks later, Princess Arianne Martell arrived.

“Your grace.” Even in her riding leathers, Arianne Martel was one of the most beautiful women Aegon had ever seen. She curtsied and held out her hand expectantly.

“Princess.” Aegon replied, taking her hand and kissing it.

“I was told you were injured in battle.” The Dornish woman cocked her head to the side and looked him up and down.

“You mat rest assured I am fully recovered.” Aegon felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. “I understand you are hear to discuss Dorne’s loyalties in the coming conflict?”

“Ah, you are very direct I see.” The princess sighed. “Yes, I am here to discuss Dorne’s loyalty, but I have been riding for over a fortnight and I am very tired. Might I rest and wash myself before the politics begins.”

“Of course.” Aegon nodded. “These men will show you to your chambers. Would you rather have food brought to you or eat in the great hall tonight?”

“I think I shall eat alone tonight.” She gave him a curious smile. “But I do hope we may have something of a feast with you tomorrow.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He smiled back as the Princess and her men were shown to their rooms. _This is it_, Aegon thought. _This is where my conquest begins, battles may win me castles, but allies will win me the Kingdoms._

-SANSA II-

Robert died in the night. His health had taken a turn when the snows stopped melting and the pools began to freeze. He had been unable to leave his bed for over a moon and he had not been able to keep any of his food down in his final week.

Sansa had sat with him all through his last day. She told him all the stories about the flying knight she knew, and when she finished telling those ones, she made up new ones just to keep him happy. She had even let him kiss her, whenever he wanted, even despite the Maester’s warning that Robert’s illness could spread to her.

When the boy finally passed, Sansa did not even notice. She had finished telling him a story and when he did not comment she asked. “Would you like me tell you another story, Sweetrobin, or would you prefer just to sleep now.” The child hadn’t responded to that either. She called for Maester Coleman, but there’s was nought to be done, Robert was already dead.

“Alayne.” Baelish walked in after hearing the commotion. “Are you alright my sweet.”

“Robert is dead.” Sana’a could not think of anything else to say. Robert has not been the best companion, but he had only been a little boy and family at that. He did not deserve to die. _No more than Bran did, _a voice in her head said.

“I know my sweet I know.” Petyr embraced her, offering her a handkerchief even though she wasn’t crying. He let her go and looked over to the maester. “Why don’t you go fetch the silent sister, my dear. We will have need of them tonight.” She nodded.

The sept was almost empty at that time of day. Sansa remembered the great sept in Kingslanding, it had never been empty. There was always someone there all through the night and the day. But not here. Here there was only the Septon, the silent sisters were likely in an adjoining room praying or sleeping.

Sansa told the Septon what had happened, the man shed a few tears before thanking her for her help and going to find the strange women who had devoted their lives to the dead. She decided that this night had been trauma enough for her, so she made her way back to her chambers.

As she walked through the long grey corridors of the Gates of the Moon, she heard the bells begin to ring from the direction of the Sept. The noise set of a chain reaction in her mind, and suddenly Sansa was hit by all of the grief that she had never been allowed to feel. That she had never allowed herself to feel.

Each peel of the bell was like slap, a tally for all those she had lost: her father; dead because of her own selfish stupidity, Bran and Rickon; murdered by a man who should have been their brother, Robb and her mother; betrayed and slaughtered. Now even Jon was dead, murdered at the Wall. She had accepted Arya’s death without even realising it, slowly, day by day, rumour by rumour, so now she knew that her sister was dead too.

Sansa no longer cared who heard or what people thought. She screamed. She didn’t know or care how loud she was, she simply let it out. All her grief all her fear all her rage.

Once she had stopped screaming she cried. She cried until she was weak, limp and empty. She was so blinded by emotion that she had not even realised she was on the floor, that she had collapsed against a wall.

Only when she could cry no more did she realise that there was someone standing above her. It was Ser Shadrich.

“I had not known you cared so much for the little Lord, Alayne.” He almost sounded genuine, but his eyes were cruel and laughing, and the man could barely contain the smirk from spreading across his face.

“Leave me be.” Sansa muttered, hardly able to speak.

“Oh I wish I could, truly.” He crouched down in front of her, so she tucked her knees in under her chin in an attempt to protect herself. “If I’m being honest I find you rather dull, but I’ve got a job to do, and if I don’t do it no one else will ever want to hire me again.”

Sansa knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t stop herself, the words just came out. “What job?”

The false knight reached out a hand and brushed a stand of stray hair out of her face, she was too tired to stop him. Shadrich gave her a pitiful look.

“I have to kill you.” Sansa whimpered and tried to back away, but he had her cornered. “Hold on their darling, I said I have to kill you I never said I was going to do it _right now_. I’d rather have some fun with you first.”

Sansa opened her mouth to scream again but Shadrich put his hand over her mouth. “I’m afraid that won’t do you any good, girl. Littlefinger told all the castle staff to stay out of this wing while you had your little fit.”

With that the knight scooped her up and carried her down the corridor. Sansa couldn’t believe it. She could not stop it. Something in her wanted to laugh, all her life she had dreamed about some handsome knight rescuing her and carrying her away to safety. And now a robber Knight had found her in her hiding and was carrying her away to rape and murder her.

Shadrich shifted her so she was over his shoulder and opened a door to an empty room. He walked in and set her down on the floor. It was too dark to tell exactly what sort of room they were in, but there was an armchair behind her and some other furniture to suggest a sitting room. She backed herself against the chair as the false knight took a torch off the wall outside.

Sansa could feel her heart pounding in her chest; she was terrified. She remembered the riots in Kingslanding, remembered the way Lolys Stokeworth had been left simple minded after half a hundred men had had her. Would that happen to her? There was only one man approaching her now, but how many times would he have her before he killed her?

“No!” She cried as the man lifted her to her feet. “Stop it, if my father finds ou-”

Shadrich slapped her. “Your father is dead. He was beheaded in Kingslanding.” Sansa already knew that he knew who she was, but she denied it anyway. “Oh, I suppose you mean littlefinger then. Well what can he do now? Little Robert is dead, Baelish only had power as long as the boy lived. Harry is the lord of the Vale now. Littlefinger can’t do anything without Hardyng’s consent.”

He turned her around so she was pressed over the chair, she tried to kick him but he pushed her legs to the sides with his feet. Shadrich used one hand to push her head down so far her chin dig into her neck, with the other Sansa heard him unsheathe a blade and felt as it cut though the laces at the back of her dress. He cut so hard and deep that she felt the blade along her spine and knew he had drawn blood.

She began to cry again, the sound was mutilated into a rasping cough by the way he was bending her neck. His body was flat against hers. He let go of her neck so both his hands could work in removing her dress. She heard him put his blade away. He ripped the back of her gown all the way from the bottom of the laces to her thighs. For some stupid reason, her first concern was the damage he had done to her dress, and not what he was going to do to her. _I made it myself, _she thought as he began to tug at her small clothes.

The only light in the room came from the torch Shadrich had put on the wall, meaning the room was still very dark. So it came as a shock to both Shadrich and Sansa when the room was filled with light from outside as someone opened the door. The Knight whipped around to face the intruder. Sansa dropped into the floor in a crumpled but relieved heap.

She looked up at the fight at the door. Her eyes were still adjusting to the new light, but she could still see that even though the intruder was much smaller than Shadrich, they were winning the fight. This looked like it would change when the false knight drew his knife once more, but the intruder just dodged the first stabbing attempt and when the knife came at them again they grabbed it and rammed it into Shadrich’s neck.

Sansa’s attacker fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood. Only once the man on the floor stopped twitching did she finally look up to see who it was who had come to her aid. It was Mya Stone.

“Alayne.” Mya’s voice was soft and surprisingly calm for one who had just murdered someone. “You’re safe now. He’s dead.”

Sansa realised that her dress was hanging off her and she pulled it up to cover herself. The older girl reached out a hand to help her up. Sansa was in danger of crying again when she made the mistake of looking down at Shadrich’s face.

“Did he hurt you?” Mya asked as she walked Sansa along the corridor, one hand supporting her at the waist, the other gripping tightly into hers.

“I think he cut my back but he…” Sansa swallowed and shook her head. “He didn’t..”

“That’s good. The maester and most of the lords ands ladies are with your father and Harry right now, so I’ll go find him when I find someone else to watch over you.” Mya explained everything so slowly and gently that Sansa began to calm down again, she was still shaking though. “My chambers are just here.”

Mya sat Sansa on the bed and looked at the cut along her back. She said it wasn’t too deep and simply washed it with watered wine to clean it until she could get the maester.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking.” Mya began after finding Sansa some fresh clothes and settling her down in bed. “But why did the Hedge Knight go for you. I thought he was serving your father?”

“That man was no true knight.” Sansa muttered. And then, forgetting everything Baelish told her about her cover. “And Lord Baelish isn’t my father.”

“What?”

“My father was beheaded in Kingslanding by Joffrey and Cersei. My brother was going to come and rescue me, but the Frey’s murdered him. Then I had to marry Lord Tyrion, and then Petyr helped me escape.”

There was a sickening silence, Sansa realised what she had said in the stress of the moment.

“You’re Sansa Stark.” Mya muttered.

“Promise you won’t tell.” Sansa whispered.

“Only if you promise too.” Mya took a deep breath. “I’m Robert Baratheon’s daughter, bastard daughter.”

-VAL II-

Val had had to grow accustom to Selyse’s company. Since Jon’s murder the woman had become surprisingly tolerable, even with the beard.

The remaining free folk had teamed up with the Queensmen, they had to, else they would not have survived at Castle Black. The men of the Nights Watch were scared, Bowen Marsh, one of Jon’s killers, had taken over as lord commander and none of the other crows were like to try and stop him. They had all just done as Marsh said, and he was going to do what the Bolton’s bastard had said. He was going to hand them over.

Val would not let that happen. So she went to Selyse, and told her that Bowen would give her to the Bolton’s too. The queen had agreed with her, and with their combined forces they took over Castle Black.

Looking down over the wall was something she could never get used to no matter how often people told her she would. But the Queen wanted to see her so she had braved the winch and the winds and the height.

“Lady Val.” Selyse always called her that no matter how many times she objected.

“Your Grace.” Val had had to grow accustomed to saying that as well.

“Has there been any news?” Selyse asked. The woman would always ask if there had been news of her husband as if she would not be the first person to know if any rider or raven arrived at the castle.

“I’m afraid not.” Selyse looked disappointed at the that. “You asked to see me?” Val tried to prompt a reason as to why she had been forced to come all the way up the wall.

“Yes, I want to know what you plan on doing with, with the former Lord Commanders body.” She gave Val a wary look. “I understand that you may want to preserve him but even this cold will not stop the rot entirely, and when the dead come I would rather not have to see the boys eyes turn blue.”

It angered Val that Selyse would not say Jon’s name, and it angered her even more that she referred to him as the boy.

“We were waiting for an appropriate time to burn him.” She tried to swallow her rage. “And we thought we aught to wait for his sister to gets here. She was his family she should be here to say goodbye.”

That wasn’t the real reason, but she could hardly say that the reason they hadn’t burnt Jon’s body yet was because she knew that Jon’s soul was still alive in Ghost’s body and her and Tormund were looking for a way to put it back into Jon’s body.

“That is fair. Though Im not sure his sister will make it here. The Lady Arya is very young and has no doubt endured much abuse under her marriage to the Bastard of Bolton if she truly has run away then yes, this is where she would go but it’s a two week ride from Winterfell to here, a child of her age travelling alone has little chance of survival.”

The Queen had a point. Val opened her mouth to respond but the horn rang out above her head, almost deafening her. She looked out to see who was there and the second blast hit her. Wildlings.

_A_ wildling in this case. They looked young and female, though it was hard to tell at that height. They were running full speed at the wall, though they were likely another 5 minutes from reaching it.

“We should go down.” Val told the Queen. “We have to see why they’re here.”

Selyse nodded and they began their descent.

By the time they reached the ground a crowd had gathered by the gate.

“Open it.” Val commanded.

Some people moved to obey her but the Queen gave them a look. Val turned to Selyse, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t you want to see who it is?” She asked.

“Open the inner gate.” The Queen allowed. “But keep the outer one shut until I say.”

Val walked to the end of the tunnel with the Queen and ten of her Queensmen. As she looked at the icy walls, she thought of the time Jon told her they reminded him of the belly of an ice dragon. She always teased him for that, after all Jon had never seen an ice dragon, let alone the inside of its belly. No one alive had ever seen any kind of dragon, though the old blind man had once told Val that he had owned a dragons egg, which was half way there she supposed.

At the outer gate they could see the figure getting closer. It was definitely a girl she could see now, and she could also see why she was running. Chasing behind the girl were two shadowcats. The beasts were fully grown and could easily rip the girl to shreds of they caught her.

“Open the gate.” Val said again, speaking only to Selyse this time.

“Why should I.” Selyse retorted.

“She is alone, unarmed and about to be eaten alive.” Val almost screamed as the girl finally arrived at the bars of the gate. “Let her in!”

The girl wrapped her hands around the iron bars of the gate and began to shake it, they could all se the fear in her eyes and she broke into hysterical tears.

“Let me in, please please!” She cried. “I’ll take your deal I’ll take your God I’ll kneel please please I’ll do anything just let me in!”

She looked over her shoulder and began to shake the bars even harder. The shadowcats were so close now, they would be there in less than a minute. Val had only ever seen the cats at a distance, picking a corpse clean on a mountain or stalking the goats at night. She thought suddenly that it was strange the way these cats would chase a person right up to the wall.

“Open it.” The Queen finally consented, breaking Val from her thoughts. “Open the gates, but shut them quick before those beasts get through.”

The men shouted back and the gate began to move. The girl sighed a sigh of infinite relief and took her hands off he bars. Val was very concerned then, when instead of dropping to her stomach and rolling under the gate, the girl stood still, and waited for the gate to reach her shoulders. The cats behind her had stopped running as well, they padded up behind her now and the girl waited for them underneath the gate, ensuring the men couldn’t close it without crushing her in the process.

“What are you doing?” One of the men walked up to the girl. “Those beasts are going to get in!”

He made a grab for her arm, but the girl moved away and before any of them could even see what had happened, the man was kneeling before her with a knife at his throat.

Then the shadowcats finally arrived.

They prowled in silently behind the girl and the guard she was holding. All the other Queensmen drew their swords and the Queen herself backed away down the tunnel. Only Val stayed calm.

“Girl.” She called. “We’ve let you through the gate. There’s no need for that, is there?”

“He tried to grab me.” The girl retorted, though she sheathed her blade all the same, hiding it back up her sleeve. Seeing her this close, Val could tell she was very young, she couldn’t be any older than 16. She was pretty too, with golden brown hair and eyes the colour of a summer sky. Cats eyes, Val thought. Now she knew the girl was armed, she looked her up and down to see where she hid her claws. There was the one in her sleeve of course, and she spotted something that was probably a hilt sticking out of the top of the girls boot.

The guards still looked uneasy with the girl and the cats, but the Val couldn’t help but smile at the child’s cunning.

“What’s your name?” Val asked her.

“Ereine.” The girl answered, putting a hand on the cat to her right and scratching its ears.

“And them.” Val gestured to the cats. “What are their names?”

Ereine smirked at that. “This one’s wraith.” She ruffled a hand through the right cats fur. “And that one’s shade.” The cat in the left gave a small snarl, causing all the Queensmen to grip their weapons tighter.

Val turned to Selyse. “You can close the gate now, your Grace. The girls no fool, she wishes you no harm she only wants the Wall’s protection.”

“I’ll not have those creatures in the castle. Not with Shireen there.” The Queen still stood some way behind her men.

“You let Shireen near Ghost. There’ve been plenty of other skinchangers and wargs coming through the gate. Why not let this one through?”

The Queen only frowned and gave a reluctant gesture to her men to stand down and close the gate. They all walked silently through the tunnel, some Queensmen in front of Val and Ereine, some behind. The Queen herself walked at the front with two men on either side of her.

“They will have to wait in the stables.” Selyse announced once they arrived back in the courtyard, the crowd parted and shifted away from the cats as they entered.

“Why?” Ereine demanded, but Val gave her a look. They would have to compromise here.

They put Wraith and Shade in a stall beside the boar. None of the animals liked it but there was no where else free. Selyse looked at Ereine as the girl whispered to the cats.

“We need to speak with you.” Val said when the girl came back to them. “Come this way.”

“Alright, what d’you want to know?” Ereine asked when they arrived in the Queens chambers.

“Where did you come from?” Selyse began. “It’s been weeks since the last of the free folk came through the tunnel.”

The girl frowned. “Those weren’t the last of the free folk, those was just t’ones that knelt. I came from Hardhome. That’s where the _last_ of the free folk were. The real free folk.”

“_Were_? They aren’t there anymore.” Val asked.

“No”

“Where are they then.” Val asked, leaning forwards in her seat. Ereine looked at the floor, and tugged the blanket they had given her a little tighter around her shoulders.

“Hardhome’s gone.” She was shaking. “Everyone who was there is dead now.”

“But we sent you aid. We sent you Stannis’ ships!” Selyse exclaimed.

“Aye, those ships came. Other ships came too, from the east.” Ereine stopped shaking and balled her fists.

“Well if people got in the ships then some of you must have left by sea, away to Eastwatch or wherever the Easterners were from. And what do you mean they’re all dead? How did they die?” Val was practically screaming from the stress of Ereine’s news.

“You know full what I mean.” Ereine growled. “And those ships were useless. They took the women and the babes and left everyone else. The easterners were even worse, they took anyone they could back to their country.”

Val did not need to be told why the Easterners took the free folk. She already knew they would not be free anymore. Queen Selyse was not happy to leave the conversation there though.

“But if you escaped then surely others could have. They may be-”

“What part of they’re all dead do you not understand!” Ereine yelled. “Those who stayed died, those who ran died, those who tried to sail away probably died too.”

The room went silent as the two women both wondered whether or not the girl was going to cry. She didn’t.

“Is that everything you want to know.” Ereine seemed to have calmed down slightly.

“Aye.” Val answered. “I’ll show you where you’re staying.”

In truth they had not discussed where the girl would go, but Val decided that she liked the girl and she wanted to keep an eye on her.

Once they had left the Queens rooms and were safely out of the guards earshot Ereine rolled her eyes and gave Val a sympathetic look.

“I’ve no idea how you’ve lasted this long with that one ordering you round.”

“Neither do I.” Val scoffed. “That was a clever thing you did back there. With the cats.”

Ereine smirked. “Well I didn’t think you’d let me in ‘less you thought I was ‘bout to be eaten.” 

The girls creased her brow.

“I forgot t’ask, what’s your name?” Ereine looked up at her and gave her a smile for the first time since they met.

“I’m Val.” She watched as the girls brow creased.

“Dalla’s sister? I never thought you’d be here with the kneelers.”

“It wasn’t my choice. Dalla died when Stannis attacked Mance’s camp. Wasn’t a sword that took her though, it was childbirth.” Val had raised her nephew well until Jon had sent him away with Gilly, but this girl didn’t need to know that, and Val liked the little monster well enough.

The two were silent for a moment.

“Anyway, not all the kneelers are so bad. The Lord Commander was a friend, he looked out for us.” Val looked down at the girl who gave her the face of someone waiting for her to laugh. “I mean it. Jon was good people. He’s gone now, but he was good. And he was like you.”

“What do you mean?” Ereine frowned.

“You’re a warg aren’t you.” The girl nodded. “So was Jon.”

“So _is _Jon, you mean.” Ereine was clearly sceptical. “If he really was a warg then he’ll be alive in his animal now. What is it? The animal I mean?”

“A direwolf.”

“A direwolf?” They paused where they stood, just in front of the door to Hardins Tower. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Val smirked and pushed open the door. Ereine walked through them stopped dead. The silent white shape of Ghost skunk out from beneath the table.

“_Warg.” _Val heard they girl whisper.

“Yes.” A new voice called to them from out side. It was the red woman. Her rich eastern accent made her voice unmistakable. “He is.”

“Who are you.” Ereine looked even angrier than she had in the queens chamber.

“My name is Melisandre.” The red woman glanced from the wolf to the wildling women then back. “Might I have a word with lady Val alone?”

Val gestured to Ereine and the girl stalked off up stairs.

“Why are you here?” Val began. “We asked you to come weeks ago what took you so long?”

“I was not ready then. I am now.”

“So you think you can do it?” Val stepped forwards, eager to hear what the witch said. “You think you can bring him back, put him back whatever it is?”

“I do.”  
  



	6. A Brother That I Loved, A Brother That I Hated, A Woman I Desired

-BRAN II-

For Bran, life in the cave of the Three Eyed Crow was growing tiresome.

Everyday he sat in his chair and saw countless visions of people long dead and long forgotten. Bran was beginning to learn, however, that he was shown these visions so that the people and the people in them could not be forgotten. It made him sad and sometimes angry that he had to learn and remember everything that ever happened, especially when most of the time it felt like nothing was happening in the visions he saw. Nothing interesting anyway.

He had seen the girl he thought was Arya, but who he now knew to be his Aunt Lyanna. In each of the visions he saw her in she seemed to be getting older. Bran could see the truth in all the things he had heard about her, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. In truth the bar for that wasn’t really that high, the only woman he had ever really seen were his mother, his sisters (though they weren’t truly women yet), some servants at Winterfell and Meera. He had seen the Queen once too, and Lyanna was definitely pettier than Cersei.

Today Bran had been shown Kingslanding. It was the dead of night but Bran and bloodraven could see through it, they always could. That had been to a different part of the city today, the docks rather than the Keep which was where they usually visited. There was a woman early with child holding a small boys hand. They were both wearing cloaks and had their heads covered, but as they stepped onto the gangplank of the boat they were boarding the boys hood was blown back by the wind.

In Winterfell, Bran had been taught the lineages and histories of all the great houses of Westeros. It had been one of his best subjects during Maester Luwin’s lessons. So even though Bran had never seen a Targaryen before in person, he knew what they looked like. And the little boy looked like a Targaryen. He had pale silver hair that seemed to glow in the moonlight, and when he looked round to check if anyone had seen, Bran saw that his eyes were a pale lilac colour which none but the blood of old Valyria possessed.

The boy’s mother pulled his hood back over his head and they had boarded the ship without further incident. When the ropes tying the ship to the dock were cut and the sails let down, Bran could see the red, three headed Dragon on the black field which confirmed what he had already guessed.

Bran felt a hand wrap around his wrist as he was watching the ship sail away. Bloodraven had decided that the lesson was over.

“Who were they?” Bran asked when they woke back in the cave. He had learned that his teacher rarely gave a forthcoming or informative answer, but he still asked, like always.

“The woman was once a Queen, the babe in her belly is a Queen now.” It was a more direct answer than Bran had been expecting, but it still wasn’t everything he wanted to know.

He creased his brow as he processed what he had heard.

“That can’t be right.” He said. “The Queen now is Margaery Tyrell, you showed be that. The Queen before her was Cersei Lannister. Margaery’s mother was never a Queen.”

“The woman was the Queen before Cersei Lannister, and her daughter will be the queen after Margaery.” The Three Eyed Crow replied.

“But you said she was the Queen _now._” Bran insisted. “And what about the boy? Wouldn’t he be the King before his sister was the Queen?”

“The boy cannot be King because he is dead. And I said the girl was _a _Queen now, not _the _Queen as you would call it.” Bloodraven’s voice never changed tone or pitch, but if it did, it would have done now. “Do you truly believe that the Seven Kingdoms are the only place in the world which have need of a Queen? Did you yourself not have lessons in which you learned of all the cities on the Eastern continent?”

Bran thought on that. It was true, there were numerous cities over in Essos. Bran still didn’t like the way his teacher spoke however.

“Why can’t you ever just tell me people’s names.” He grumbled.

“You did not ask me for their names.” The Crow replied.

“I asked you who they were.” Bran tried to calm himself for he knew his teacher was going to say some other confusing thing now.

“A name is not the same as who someone is. If someone asked who you are and you told them you were Bran, that would be of little help to them. If you told them you were a young crippled Lordling who’s brother was once a King, that you are a warg, a greenseer and the next Three Eyed Crow, they will know much and more about you without needing to know your name.”

“I’m not a cripple.” Bran could not think of anything else to say.

“Yes you are. Just as you are a Warg and a greenseer.” Bloodraven told him.

“Who are you then?” Bran asked, hotly.

“I am The Three Eyed Crow, your teacher, a warg and a greenseer.”

“But who were you?” He was so angry and tired by this point he almost shouted. “You’ve told me your name is Brynden or Bloodraven, but you’ve told me nought of where you come from, how you discovered your gifts, how you got here or who you were before this place.”

His teacher looked sad at that, Bran felt bad, he had not meant to upset him, only learn a little more about the man. It was a long time before his teacher replied.

“That will be all for today.” He announced.

Hodor walked in and picked Bran up. He did not argue, he had overstepped and he knew it.

Back in the root cave where they slept, Jojen was already asleep. He had been getting better recently, though he still spent much of his time in bed. _Well, it’s not actually a bed, it’s just a sort of ledge._

Meera was awake and Bran was glad for it. She was becoming more of her old self again, so she smiled when he and Hodor entered. As Hodor was placing him down on his bed _ledge _Meera shuffled over to sit next to him. She had started doing this a few weeks ago, and she oft now slept beside him as well rather than in her own bed _ledge._

“What did you see today?” She asked. Meera knew a lot about history, especially recent history, and could often give some insight into what Bran had seen.

“A woman boarding a ship to take her away from Kingslanding. She had a boy with her, he was her son I think, and she was pregnant, the Crow told me the babe was a girl. They were Targaryens. They had silver hair and their ship had a dragon on the sail.” Bran saw Meera’s eyes widened in the dim light of the cave. “The Crow said some other things about the woman having been a Queen and her daughter being a Queen now, but that didn’t make much sense.”

“Well the woman was probably Queen Rhaella. She fled Kingslanding for Dragonstone during Roberts Rebellion, she took her son with her. The younger one obviously not Rhaegar, the boy was called… Visery? Viserys? Something like that.” Meera paused for breath. “I’m not sure about the daughter though. I know the girl was born on Dragonstone and the Queen died birthing her, but I don’t know her name, only that she and her brother were smuggled off the island before Stannis’ fleet took the castle.”

“So those were the last Targaryens?” Bran asked, remembering things he had heard from maester Luwin and his father. “The mad kings children?”

“Yes.” Meera answered. “And I suppose it is possible that the girl is a Queen. If she found herself an army, but I’d have thought the boy would be King before his sister was a Queen.”

“He’s dead. The Crow told me, I thought the same thing you did.”

The two of them considered this for a moment, both realising what a Targaryen Queen in the East could mean for Westeros.

Meera yawned and shuffled herself do she was lying down. Bran pushed himself into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. But sleep would not come. He kept trying until he heard Meera’s quiet snores beside him, then he gave up.

The root above his bed _ledge _seemed to be calling to him. He had not used it since he visited the raven, he decided to do so again now.

The raven was on the ginger mans shoulder again. When he looked down he could see Jon’s body on the table still. He had seen it before, but the sight of his brothers corpse almost sent him back into his own body.

No one had touched Jon’s body, it was just as it had been before only his skin had turned much paler and was gaining a greenish tinge that made Bran feel sick. _Just burn him, please, just let him rest. _His brother still wore the black bloodstained clothes he had died in.

The door opened and two women walked in. One, the blonde one, he recognised. She had been there last week, she had brought Ghost. The other woman he did not recognise. She had red hair, _real_ red hair. Bran had the auburn hair of the Tully’s, just like his mother, Robb, Rickon and Sansa, but that wasn’t real red, only orange and brown. This strange woman had hair as red as fresh blood and robes to match. Everything about her was red, Bran noticed, from her lips to her eyes.

The three men in black seemed uncomfortable at the red woman’s presence, they still stood vigil over Jon’s body, as did the ginger man. The women began collecting candles and braziers from around the room and placed them in a circle around Jon’s body.

Under Jon’s table something moved, Ghost. The white wolf stood from where he had been resting and looked at the red woman. She held out a hand and Ghost nudged it gently. Once the candle circle was full only the Jon, the red woman and Ghost remained inside. She began to say things in a language Bran did not know, pacing around the table until she came to Jon’s head. Still speaking her strange words, she placed her hands on Jon’s shoulders and began to say something else, something that sounded like a prayer or chant.

Bran knew she was praying to some god _the wrong god_, he though, _Jon is of the North, his are the Old Gods, he does not know this strange of one yours!_ The raven could not move, he was paralysed on the ginger mans shoulder. There was a strange noise outside and the men looked to the window.

The red woman stopped her chanting, and her face looked distressed. Suddenly, all the candles in the circle blew out. The room was in complete darkness, and this time Bran could not see through it. There was an unearthly silence too now the red woman was not speaking.

A candle in front of the raven flickered back to life, and in its light Bran could see tears running down the red woman’s face. Her mouth opened and she began to chant again. The prayer was sadder this time, and her voice trembled from her tears.

As she kept chanting more of the candles relit themselves, one by one until only one candle remained unlit. The red woman saw this and sighed, her cheeks were shining from tears in the candlelight. She walked around to Jon’s side, Ghost sitting next to her. She bent down over Jon and kissed him.

When she stood up again her face was unreadable, then she fell to the floor. The last candle in the circle flickered back to life, and Jon opened his eyes.

-ASHA II-

Castle Black had no gates, nor did it have any walls. It was one of the least impressive castles Asha had ever seen, half made of wood and half falling apart.

It had taken them just over a fortnight to reach The Wall, and in Asha’s opinion _that was_ impressive enough to make up for the “_Castle”. _It was so high they hadn’t been able to see the top on some days as it was entirely obscured by clouds.

Jeyne had grown more and more anxious as they approached the wall. _She thinks they’ll give her back to the Bolton’s, _the girl had told Asha as much one night when she had woken from a bad dream.

Now they were at the Castle Jeyne was shaking like a leaf, her jaw clenched so tight Asha was worried she would break her teeth.

A few men came towards them dressed in Black.

“Halt.” The first one called. “Who are ya, what’s y’business here?”

“I am Asha Greyjoy.” She said, sliding of her horse and walking over to the man. “I was sent here by Stannis Baratheon as his prisoner. I come with the Lady Arya of house Stark, who is to be returned to her last living brother, your Lord Commander. May we see him?”

At that, the mans face fell. He looked up at Jeyne almost guiltily. He turned and said something to the man behind him who hurried off towards a tower that looked in danger of collapsing at any second.

“Come with me m’Lady.” The man said, not quite looking her in the eyes. “The Queen will want a word with you.”

Asha walked to Jeyne’s horse and helped lift her down. She was so skinny that Asha could feel the girls ribs, even through all the layers she wore.

The Queen was an ugly woman. She had a sour look on her face, and the ghost of a moustache on her upper lip. She had a small girl with her whom Asha presumed was her daughter. The girl was even uglier than her mother, she was big eared and the left side of her face was cracked and grey. Evidence of an illness few ever recovered from.

“Your grace.” Asha and Jeyne both bowed when they came into the room.

“Please sit.” The woman said, in a bout even more sour than her face. “I hear you are Arya Stark, is that so my Lady?”

“It is, your Grace.” Jeyne nodded her head.

The Queen did not even acknowledge Ashas presence, she was so fixed on Jeyne.

“Then you have my condolences.” She said. Jeyne’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m afraid your half brother Jon Snow is dead. He was murdered, little over a week ago. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jeyne was clearly working very hard to hide her relief. _Well that solves that problem. She will stay as Arya and Theon will be safe. _The little girl walked over and handed Jeyne something to dry her eyes.

“Thank you.” She said, and Asha could see that she was beginning to cry. “Forgive me, I do not know your name.”

“I am Shireen.” The little princess smiled and held onto Jeyne’s hand.

“I am sorry to interrupt your mourning but I must ask, Stannis sent you here, is he still alive?” The Queen looked despairing as she asked.

“He was when he sent us.” Asha asked us. “That was a fortnight or so ago. I’m not sure what became of him after that.”

The Queen nodded and sighed with relief. She looked as though she might ask who Asha was, then stopped herself, clearly filling in that information for herself. The Queen turned and stared into the fire in the hearth beside them.

Asha took a moment to look around the room as Jeyne cried. It must have been one of the best rooms they had at Castle Black if they had given it to Stannis’ Queen. Even so, it hardly seemed the sort of place a southron Lady would want to stay long. There were torches lining the walls but it was still very dim, mostly thanks to the dark colour of the walls. The walls were lined with bookshelves and they sat before a hearth which gave them some warmth, but the room seemed very dull. _It’s a wonder little Shireen hasn’t gone mad with boredom_.

What was interesting was the way the queen looked into the fire, like she was trying to ask it something. Asha knew that the Queen followed the Lord of Light, just as Stannis and most of his followers did. She had also heard of the Red Woman who was never far from the Queen. She wondered when she would be allowed to meet Melisandre of Asshai.

There was a sudden commotion from outside. The three women and Shireen all stood and moved to the window to see what was happening. People in brown animal pelts were coming streaming out of the dilapidated tower she had seen earlier. A big ginger man came rushing out, laughing and cheering, embracing everyone around him.

The next people to exit the tower, three men dressed in the black garb of the Nights Watch, were quieter, they seemed shaken by what they had seen inside. Lastly out of the tower was an attractive blonde woman supporting a dark haired boy who could not have been much older than Jeyne. He was limping and would definitely have fallen if not for the woman holding him up. As they walked closer Asha saw that the boys skin was very pale and had a slightly green tinge to it, almost as if he were a corpse…

She looked over at Jeyne who had turned even paler than the boy.

“That’s him isn’t it.” She asked quietly. Jeyne looked in danger of fainting and staggered backwards into her chair. She nodded. Asha rounded on Queen Selyse. “You said he was dead, now I see him walking and living clear as day.”

“He was.” The Queen’s voice was barely above a whisper, she shook her head. “He was dead, I saw it, I saw his corpse.” Her face paled. She looked about frantically. “Where is the Lady Melisandre?”

-JON I-

He was cold. Even with Val’s cloak around his shoulder and the heat of her body beside him, he was cold. Ghost had been warm, Ghost had fur, Jon did not.

The crowd in the yard parted to let him pass. He tried to ask Val where she was taking him, but when he opened his mouth words would not come. He tried again to little success. Val just squeezed his had and told him to give it some time.

She took him to the forge. _Why is she taking me here_ he thought at first _Donal Noye is dead, what’s in the forge. _When Val opened the door Jon remembered. These were _his _rooms now, they had been for months. He couldn’t use the kings tower because Selyse was using it. He couldn’t use the lord commanders tower because it burnt down. _But why did it burn down? _His thoughts were scattered in his mind, they seemed to all be hiding behind a hundred different doors in his mind. _Well I did just die and spend a week inside the mind of a wolf, this’ll wear off after a little while. _He tried to convince himself that this must be normal, but there was no precedent for being brought back to life after dying, or at least none that he knew of.

As Val pulled another pair of black breeches and a clean black tunic and Jon’s spare black cloak and leathers out of a chest, Jon tried to remember everything about his death. It wasn’t easy, it was like trying to remember a dream. Bits came and went, he remembered the pain, how much he had hurt when the knives went in. Not just the pain to his body, but to his soul, that his brothers betrayed him. He remembered little between that and waking.

There had been even more pain then, in his lungs it had felt as if he was being ripped open when he took his first breath. The sensation of his blood slowly beginning to move around his body had been excruciating as much of it must have frozen, so ice hard clots of blood were still now pushing and tearing through his veins.

He remembered looking down and seeing Melisandre lying in the floor, the sound of Mormont’s raven chanting his name, his full name. Val told him that the Red Woman had brought him back, that she had given him her own life. Jon didn’t know what to think of that. Another door opened in his mind and he heard Melisandre’s voice, heard her warnings. “_Daggers in the dark.” “Keep your wolf close Jon Snow.”_

Once he was dressed in his fresh clothes, Val lead him back out. He could walk on his own now and when Val spoke he understood almost all of what she said. They were going to see Queen Selyse.

They walked into the room and Jon did not recognise a single soul inside. He looked around at them blankly. There were men he knew to be guards, _Queensmen, _his mind told him. A dark haired woman stood by the window, Jon felt as if he did not know her but that could just be his state of mind. Her face did seem quite familiar.

It wasn’t until he saw little Shireen’s scarred face that he registered the woman stood beside the hearth as Queen Selyse, her daughter hiding behind her with wide eyes.

“You were dead.” Was all Selyse said, her voice high and quiet.

“And now I’m alive.” Jon was able to croak out, though his voice sounded strange and little Shireen his further behind her mother upon hearing it.

“Lucky for some.” Said the woman at the window.

“Do I know you?” Jon asked her.

“Not personally, you know my brother though. I am Asha Greyjoy.” The name unlocked something else in Jon’s mind, an old memory. A boy who had been Jon’s foster brother was laughing as he kicked the severed head of a Nights Watch deserter. Then a later memory came, Jon was lying in a sick bed and Grenn was talking to him. _Theon Greyjoy, her brother is Theon Greyjoy. That traitor __who betrayed Robb and murdered my brothers. _Not thinking, Jon moved toward Asha, but several men came and held him back.

“Is this the thanks I get?” Asha smirked. “My brother may have wronged your family.”

“May have?”

“Aye, he may have. But he’s more than seen his justice, and he isn’t guilty of all the things you think he’a guilty of.” Asha snapped. “If you’ll listen for a moment you might be interested in what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Theon Greyjoy will have justice on the day I take his head from his body.” He growled.

Jon didn’t want to listen to anything this Ironborn woman had to say, but the guards still had a tight hold of him and Selyse had her eyes on him.

“My brother helped your sister escape from Winterfell. I myself helped to escort her here.” Jon’s heart stopped. _She’s here, she’s really here this time, Arya. _Asha seemed to know what he was thinking as he looked around the room. “She’s through there.” She nodded towards the door on the far wall.

The guards wouldn’t let Val in with him, they told him his sister wanted to see him alone.

From the moment he entered the room, Jon knew something was wrong. Arya was facing away from him, all he could see as the back of her, but that was enough. Asha said that they had only just arrived, they had ridden here. Yet this girls hair was not worn the way women wore their hair for riding, it had been brushed and let loose. Arya wouldn’t have bothered to do that. She would have left it as it was. Looking closer he noticed this girls hair was the wrong colour too. Arya’s hair was the same colour as his, dark brown, almost black. This girls hair was too pale.

When the girl turned around, Jon’s fear was confirmed. This wasn’t Arya, it clearly wasn’t Arya. His little sister had been nine the last time he saw her, so she should be eleven or twelve now. This girl was clearly closer to Jon’s age than to Arya’s.

“You’re not her.” Was all Jon was able to croak out.

“I’m sorry.” The girls lips began to tremble as she spoke. Jon noticed that she was missing the end of her nose. “I’m so sorry Jon I-”

“Have we met?” Jon asked, feeling surprised at how she addressed him.

The girls face did look familiar, but he had no idea where from. He remembered them that the guards had thought her Arya too, and if Asha was sent here by Stannis then he must have believed her to be Arya too. _Is she one of Mances spearwives? That could be it, he took them to Winterfell._

“Did you go with Mance?” He asked, the girl looked as though she was going to cry. “Where is he now?”

“I- I- I don’t know who that is.” She stuttered.

Jon remembered the letter then, Ramsey’s letter. All of Mances spearwives has been killed and skinned. _But Arya had escaped I know she did he said he wanted his bride back. _He blinked his eyes, trying to fight back the tears brought on my the stress of the moment.

“Who are you, your not one of Mance’s, they all died.” Jon tried to keep his voice down so the people in the other room wouldn’t hear, but it was getting harder. “Just tell me who you are and where my sister is.”

“Jon I’m so sorry, I don’t know where Arya is.” The girl really did begin to cry now. “I’m Jeyne, Jeyne Poole. My father was your fathers steward, we went to Kingslanding with your sisters and Lord Stark. My father was murdered when the Lannister’s took over the city.”

Jon remembered her now. Jeyne Poole. Sansa’s friend, always sitting around giggling and making fun of Arya. Neither Jeyne nor Sansa had ever given Jon much attention, not that he had minded. But now this girl was here, impersonating his sister and asking for his help.

“They locked me in a room with Sansa.” Jeyne continued, clearly seeing Jon’s anger and wanting to make her side of the story known. “I was with her all day until the Queen took her, then they came for me. They gave me to littlefinger and he made me work for him. I don’t know what happened to Arya, she wasn’t with us and I never saw her after that. She had dancing lessons or- or needlework lessons by herself in the mornings, that’s where she would have been. I assumed they were keeping her with Sansa, but a few moons ago the Lannister’s came and told me I had to pretend to be her, that I had to marry Ramsey Bolton and make it look like the Starks supported him.”

She kept talking for a while but she was crying so hard he could not understand a word she said, and his mind was elsewhere besides. His head was flooded with every memory he had of Arya, of the first time he’d seen her as a newborn, of all the times they had sat watching Bran fail at archery, of the time she had come to him crying because she was afraid she was a bastard, of going riding with her and Harwin, of giving her needle.

Jeyne continued to cry, and Jon’s brain slowly began to register exactly what she had told him. She had been sent to work for littlefinger. Jon didn’t know much about this man, but he knew Baelish had a reputation as a brothel keeper. Thinking back to the Pink Letter, he knew that the Bastard of Bolton was an evil man, and would not have treated his wife kindly.

Jon felt himself soften and his fists unclench as he realised that Arya had never been married to him, it was Jeyne all along. Arya had never had to share that monsters bed, Jeyne had. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, anger that he’d got his hopes up and been fooled once agin, grief that his sister truly was missing and likely dead, relief that his child sister had not been forced to endure these horrors. Or was he guilty, that truly he was glad that it was Jeyne who had gone through all of that trauma in Aryas place, because he had never liked this girl, and a very small part of him felt that he deserved it.

With Jeyne still crying behind him, Jon turned and left the room. The Queens room was quieter now, only two guards, Asha, Val and the Queen herself remained inside. They all looked at him expectantly, and he knew they could hear Jeyne’s sobs. Everyone was waiting for him to say something. He felt Asha’s glare on him, and he looked straight at her and held her gaze.

“My sister has had a long ride.” He said after a while, still holding Asha’s gaze. “Let her rest alone until it’s time to eat.”

The relief was clear in the Greyjoy Lady’s face. _I must needs speak to her_, Jon told himself. But for now he was exhausted too, and he had much and more to figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a Bloodraven Quote, I thought it fit this chapter nicely though.  
Please comment and tell me what you think :)  
Next time- Davos thinks back to his deeds during Roberts Rebellion, Barristan decides to make use of a potential ally.  
I should also ask at this point, have any of you guessed what Arya is up to yet?


	7. Someone Gentler Than Stannis

-DAVOS II-

Davos has travelled halfway around the world during his time as a sailor and a smuggler. He had seen lands and creatures that most men had never even heard of. Skagos was entirely different from any of these places.

For one, it was much colder. Davos had seen snow before of course, and he had lived through cold. he had lived through 6 winters that he could remember, but none of them had come close to how cold Skagos was.

They had been on the island for almost a month, and they had not met another living soul. This was another way it was unlike anywhere else. No one lived there. Or at least, that was how it felt to Davos. Rennock always insisted that they must keep their voices down and stay quiet as the walked through the woods. They never walked out in the open, the guide had been very clear about that. _“The open plains is where fools go to die_.” He said when Davos suggested they take a quicker route.

Davos had to learn how to sleep in a forest on his first night on Skagos. They had entered a wood of thigh fir trees. They weren’t allowed to sleep on the ground, Rennock had drilled Davos in the dangers of sleeping in the ground, saying it was far safer to sleep in a tree where the only threat was falling out. Falling out was not a bad death, according to the Crowl, it was quick, and that was the best they could hope for here.

Tonight, luckily, they had found a cave though, so Davos was spared from sleeping up a tree that night. They were eating in silence as they normally did in the woods, but tonight was a good night, Davos could tell.

“Tell me about yourself Rennock.” He asked. The Crowl stopped chewing is salt beef and gave him a puzzled look. “We’ve been travelling together for near a full moons turn, and yet I know little and less about you. So tell me something, anything, about your life.”

Rennock gave the salt beef another hard chew and swelled hard. “What would you like to know?”

“Have you a family?” Davos asked, smiling that he was finally going to enjoy some good company.

“Aye,” the Crowl smiled “I’ve a family, and a large one at that.”

“A woman?” Davos did not know if Skaggs or freefolk had wives and husbands, so he thought it best not to ask that specifically.

“That I did, a beautiful woman.” He gave a small sigh. “I met her the first time I went to the real North. I’d met all kinds of people on Skagos, but _she_, she was new, she was a warg.”

“A warg?”

“Aye, someone who can see through the eyes O’ animals, she had an eagle.” Rennock smiled. “I returned little over a year later, and she showed me the child we had made together. And that was how it was, I would come and go and when I came again she would put another child in my arms.”

“How many were there?” Davos asked, chuckling slightly at this mans strange customs. “Bairns I mean.”

“Eight.” Rennock grinned. “The first two, two girls, the best spearwives I’d ever seen, and I mean that. Then there’s the twins, they were like their Ma, Wargs. The next two were boys, wargs again. The last two were boys too, though they’re too young to know if they had the gift. Last time o saw them the youngest had just arrived. He won’t have a name yet, it’s bad luck to name them before they turn two years, incase they die.”

Davos saw the mans face change slightly, he knew there was wars waging beyond the wall, and this mans children may have been caught in the midst of it all.

“What if you, Ser knight.” Rennock brushed off his worry. “Have you a family.”

“Aye, my wife, Marya.” This time it was Davos who smiled at the memory. “I haven’t seen her for many a moon, and she gave me seven strong sons. But it my fault that only three are still alive.”

Rennock was quiet for a moment. “That is a sad thing, Ser, for a man to outlive his children. I pray to the old Gods that your living sons will survive what is to come.”

Davos smiled sadly. “Thank you. I’m tired, I’ll sleep first and you take the watch?”

Rennock nodded. Davos lay down and closed his eyes, praying for a his wife and sons, for Rennock’s family, and most of all, a deep and dreamless sleep. The old smuggler rarely dreamt anymore, _I’ve lived a good full life_ Davos often thought, _I have nothing left to dream of. _But tonight was different.

In his sleep Davos was taken back to Dragonstone, at the end of the Rebellion. There was a saying he told people whenever they asked the difference between a pirate and a smuggler. “_If you’re a famous smuggler; you’re doing it wrong.” _That was true, but what was he if not a famous smuggler.

During the siege of Stormsend, he had smuggled food into the castle to keep the people alive. Stannis had rewarded him for it with a knighthood, and punished him for it by taking four of his fingers. But that was not the only smuggling he had done during the Rebellion. Only the most well known, and so, by his own saying, the most poorly executed.

In his dream, Davos was stood once more on the Eastern side of the island. He had sailed his boat wide around Stannis’ fleet, taking advantage of what he had learnt in the mans presence. A group of people descended the cliff path from the castle and came hurrying towards him across the beach.

“Ser Willem.” He said, nodding his head. This was treason, he knew. But it was right.

“I hear you are _Ser _Davos now.” The old night was always somewhat grumpy, but he seemed thankful despite it. “I take it you haven’t forgotten you tricks too soon.”

“Not yet.” They began to walk towards where the ships were. “I’m hoping to pull of one last one.”

He looked down to see a young boy, no older than seven by the looks of it. His hair was covered by the hood of his cloak, but the eyes staring up at Davos now we’re unmistakable. _Valyrian eyes_. Pale lilac.

Behind Davos and Ser Willem was a wetnurse carrying a tiny babe, and two guards with the shape of the three headed dragon on their chest plates.

Once they reached the skiff Davos pointed to the ship he had hired with a large portion of his reward from King Robert.

“It’ll take you to Braavos, as you asked Ser.” He told the old knight.

“Very good. I thank you Ser.” Darry turned to the boat then paused and turned back. “I trust I need not remind you how important it is that this remains a secret.”

“You have my word, Ser. I will not betray you.” Davos glances at the two children standing with the wetnurse. “Or them.”

The two guards climbed in next, each taking up an oar and waiting for the children. Davis looked at the boy.

“In you go lad.”

“Thank you Ser.” The boy didn’t sound to grateful, seeing him no it was clear he had been crying. “And I’m not a _lad_, smuggler, I am a prince.”

“Forgive me, your Grace.” Davis wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel insulted. He was putting himself at great risk to help this boy. He glanced at the babe one last time as the boy glowered at him. “May I ask their name?”

The boy seemed to cheer up a little at that, though whether it was at being addressed as _your grace, _or at being asked about his young sibling.

“Daenerys Stormborn.” He said, before adding proudly. “I named her for the princess Daenerys who married the Prince of Dorne and brought the seventh Kingdom of Westeros under Targaryen rule.”

The little boy turns after that and steps into the boat, the wetnurse follows close behind with his sister. Davos watches them as they row towards the boat in the distance.

“Davos.” A voice called to him, his head whipped round to see who. His heart was pounding _Stannis, it’s Stannis it has to be he’s here. _He looked down at his fingers and thought of what his punishment would be this time.

“Davos.” The voice called again. _That’s not Stannis. _He knew the voice, it was Rennock. “Come old Ser, it is time we left this place.”

Davos opened his eyes and saw his guide leaning over him. He got up and tried not to think about his dream. _It was a long time ago, they were children it was the right thing. _Now though, the boy had been killed and the girl had hatched dragons. _Perhaps it really was a good thing, I’ll surely want to keep on this girls good side._

As the left the cave, Davos saw that the forest was some distance away, at least a half hour walk by his eye. Rennock looked unhappy at the thought of having to cross open plains, they had come around a sheltered mountain path to get there, but that would not take them where they needed to go now.

They walked quickly _not running, running is too noticeable _and arrived at the edge of the woods in just under half an hour. Before they could enter the forest and put Rennock’s fidgety eyes to rest however, their path was blocked by a unicorn.

Davos has heard such tales about Unicorns, that they were graceful and horselike and magical. This creature looked more akin to a mountain goat, or even one of the elephants or horned rhinos that he had seen once in a Volanteen day market.

“Don’t move.” Rennock hissed. “They don’t eat people, but they spook easy and if they trample you you’ll be just as dead as if a shadowcat ripped y’throat out.”

Davos did not move. The unicorn turned its head towards them and made a sort of trumpeting moo sounds similar to that of a cow. Then it turned its head forwards again and continued its slow progress around the woods. The two men watched as it left. In fact, they became so distracted by the sight of the departing unicorn that they suddenly became oblivious to what was happening around them. So as Davos turned back round to face his guide, he did not even have time to scream before a giant black wolf, the size of a small horse, leapt onto the Crowl and wrapped his jaws around Rennock’s arm.

Rennock screamed, and Davos froze. It was not until a spear came spinning past his ear and a woman came running from the woods that he remembered how to use his limbs. He reached for the knife in his belt, but the woman was already on him. She nocked the knife from his had and tackled him to the ground.

“Who are you?” She yelled, though she was so close she hardly needed to. “What are you doing here?”

“My name is Davos Seaworth.” He said, trying to block out the sound of Rennock’s now muffled screams. He looked over to see that the man was clenching his teeth to silence himself and also trying to pry the wolf’s jaws open with his left hand. His right hand was in the wolf’s mouth.

“I’ll tell you my business here if you tell your wolf to release my friend.” Davos tried to bargain with the woman. She just grinned.

“He’s not my wolf, he’ll only stop when you tell us your business here.”

“I’m looking for a boy. His name is Rickon, he’s around five years of age.” Davos spoke as quickly as he could and then glanced at the wolf. “Tell him to let my friend go.”

The woman looked at him with a mix of rage, fear and suspicion. _If she waits any longer Rennock will lose his arm, or his life. _She made no move to stop the wolf, just continued to stare down at Davos until the sound of someone else whistling rang out above them. Her head whipped round and she leapt to her feet leaving David to scramble to him.

Rennock was free of the wolf but he was still on the ground. The woman was stood beside the wolf, talking to a boy of around five years of age.

“I told you to stay hidden.” Davos heard her saying.

“I don’t like standing in the woods alone.” The little boy folded his arms defiantly. “Besides, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh yes I can. Your brother left me in charge of you, which means you do as I say and you stay alive.” The woman made a grab to pick him up but the boy dodged behind the wolf.

Davos didn’t have to be a learnered man to know who this boy was. The Direwolf should have been enough, but Davos cold and old and his mind wasn’t as quick as it normally was out here. He went to check his guide first. The Crowl was still conscious and attempting to tie a tourniquet around the bite as it was blooding badly. Davos helped him with that then turned his attention back to his reason for being there. Rickon.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” He began as the wolf continued to block the woman and the little boy laughed. “I’d quite like to speak to you, my Lord.”

That got the boys attention.

“How do you know I’m a lord?” He asked, a look of amazement on his face.

“Well the wolf was a bit of a giveaway I’ll admit.” Davos said, Rickon smiled at that.

“What do you want to talk about?” The boy walked towards him, his wolf giving up his play with the woman and following close behind his master.

“Well, you.” He said. “My name is Davos, and I have been sent here by Lord Manderly. You know who the Manderly’s are?”

“Of course!” Rickon chirped. “Lord Wyman is even fatter than King Robert was, Arya says. They were Robb’s men.” The boys face fell slightly at that.

“You know about your brother then?” Davos asked, stepping closer to the boy.

“I dreamt it.”

“You-” Davos turned at a noise behind him, Rennock was walking towards him, arm wrapped in a makeshift sling. He whispered something to Davos about Old Magic and how he shouldn’t question it. “Do you know about the Bolton’s also?” He asked instead.

“I know they were Robb’s men too, but Bran said Lord Roose was scary and let leeches drink his blood.” Rickon frowned. “What else should I know?”

“The Bolton’s rule the North now. It was Lord Roose who helped to… who was responsible for.. for what happened to your brother.” Rickon’s face grew almost purple with rage, but Davos wasn’t done yet. “And lord Rooses son has married your sister, Arya.”

“That’s a lie!” Rickon yelled. “Lord Rooses son died!”

“His trueborn one may have, but the lad your sister is married to is Rooses bastard Ramsey, whom the king legitimised.”

Rickon’s face went white, as did that of the woman behind him.

“But- but- he was dead too!” Rickon insisted.

“I’m afraid not child, he pulled some cruel farce and sided with Theon Greyjoy under the name of _“reek”_.” This much Davos had learned from Wex, Theon’s squire. “Only then he turned on the Ironborn and burnt Winterfell down. It was him, not Theon, who destroyed your home, my Lord.”

Davos felt guilt in telling a child such things, but the boy had a right to know.

“I remember Reek.” The woman said quietly. “If he was really the Bastard of Bolton all along… I heard stories from the maester and the boys brother, the one that was King. Bolton’s Bastard married one of your Northern ladies for her land, then left her in her rooms to starve to death.”

“That was Lady Hornwood! I remember that, I heard Robb tell Bran.” Rickon’s face was panicked and he began to jump nervously between his feet. “He _can’t_ be married to Arya, she’s only eleven! Lady Hornwood grew so hungry she ate her own fingers, that can’t happen to Arya! Osha, Osha we have to go help her!”

The woman, _Osha, _could not argue with the boy. Davos knew he was winning them round, but he hadn’t told them everything yet, and he could not lie to the boy.

“There is more you should know, my Lord. I was sent here by Lord Manderly as I said, but I was sent to Lord Manderly by Stannis Baratheon.” Rickon’s furrowed his brow in confusion. “He sent me to try and win the Manderly’s loyalty so that he might have the North’s support in his fight for the Iron Throne.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” Osha growled. “You want the boy to be Lord of Winterfell so the North can see that the Starks support your Stannis. You think I’m a fool? You could be lying about his sister, she could be dead for all we know!”

“She’s not!” Rickon shouted back at her. “I would know if she was.” The boy’s eyes began to water. “Just like I knew about Robb and father and Jon!”

The little Lord began to cry then, and the black beast that had been so terrifying up to that point, turned and nudged at the boy sympathetically. Osha had been glaring at Davis for some time, but she gave up when the boy started crying, and turned to pick him up. She turned back to Davos with the sobbing boy on her hip.

“You’ve come from White Harbor you say. Then you’ll know if what he thinks is true.” Osha said, holding on tightly to the boy. “Almost a half moon back, this one wakes in the dead of night screaming and crying, saying something’s happened to his brother. The bastard I mean, not Bran. Is that true? Is the boy dead?”

Not is was Davos’ turn to be confused.

“I didn’t hear anything about it. We left near a moon ago now though, so it would have happened after I left.”

That did little to calm the child, but Rickon was still able to hold his tears long enough to tell Davos he would go back to White Harbor with him. And as they started walking, Rennock as their guide though he was significantly slower now, Davis realised something. _“The bastard not Bran.” _Osha had said, and Rickon claimed to feel it when his family members died, but he never said Bran was dead. _If this is true, we may have more Starks left then we first though. But which one will rule the North? _

* * *

-BARRISTAN III-

The Imp eyed him from across the table. Barristan has met Tyrion Lannister before of course, they had both lived in Kingslanding for most of King Roberts reign, and Tyrion was family to the Queen that Barristan had been sworn to protect. Now they were both here, and both to some extent on the run from that Queen and her remaining family. _I have a new Queen now, _Barristan told himself, _and the Imp has one of the greatest minds in the world. _

The two men continued to stare at each other. Barristan has made sure Tyrion was given fresh clothes, food and a wash if he so wished before the meeting, but the Lannister man was clearly still unhappy about his imprisonment.

“I thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” Barristan said, breaking the silence between them.

“I didn’t think I had much of a choice.” Tyrion muttered, picking up his wine cup and swirling its contents around before downing the whole thing in one go. “But I suppose I should be flattered that you’ve come to me for advice.”

“How do you know I’m asking you for advice.”

“Because, good Ser, knowledge is just about the only thing of value I own. I could once add my name and wealth to that list, but my name is likely to more detrimental than helpful here and I am, in fact, entirely penniless now.” Tyrion refilled his goblet and raised it in a toast, Barristan did not do the same in return. “So go ahead, Barristan Selmy, ask away.”

“The Greyjoy’s.” Old knight sighed. “What do you think about Victarion?”

Tyrion scoffed. “I think he’s dullard, always was, the least interesting Greyjoy by a mile. Less ambitious than Balon, less religious than Aeron and far less mad than Euron. I wouldn’t want to fight against him though, he is still a Greyjoy and the Ironborn are vicious sons of whores.” He took another swig of wine. “If you’ll pardon my language.”

“So how do you think we should deal with him?” Barristan ignored Tyrion’s last comment.

“Well for a start I think you were right in sending him to Astapore. Keeping his busy is a good way to give us time to make a plan on how best to get rid of him and his brother Euron both.”

Barristan did not need to ask why they would need to _“get rid” _of Euron. All of Westeros, and much of Essos, had heard tales of the crows eye. Barristan has fought against him in the Greyjoy rebellion, and it had seemed to him then that the man was already half mad. The tales he heard of Euron know were growing worse each time. _If the rumours of what he’s doing in Westeros are true, then we had best hope Daenerys comes back to fight him. _

That thought prompted Barristan to his next question.

“Tell me of Westeros. How fare the people?” He leant back in his seat.

“_The people_?” Tyrion laughed. “You think I payed much attention to how the people were doing? I was a bit busy trying to keep my head on my shoulders. But as best I can tell, _the people _aren’t doing so well. The war of the Five Kings was expensive, we all know that. Joffrey was a shit king, no one told him that money was for food as well as fighters, and Roberts lifestyle did little for the economy as you should well know.”

Barristan did know. Many a time he had stood guard outside the Kings chambers as Robert stayed up whoring and drinking until all hours of the night. Robert has cared little for money or politics, he left that to his councillors.

“Trying to keep your head on your shoulders?” Barristan repeated.

The Imp sighed and took another large gulp of wine. _He’ll be no help to anyone drunk, he should slow down._

“I’m afraid I was not much liked in Kingslanding.” Somehow the old knight did not find that hard to believe. “I did well as Hand- don’t give me that look, I really did. I defended the city from Stannis, routes out my sisters spies, I even got the better of Varys and Littlefinger at one point. But when _father _arrived, all that was forgotten. And when Joffrey died, well who could possibly be to blame if not the Imp. For am I not evil? Is that not my very nature?”

Barristan did not reply to that.

“You need not answer Ser. Well, I suppose you won’t have heard this part either. I was imprisoned and put on “trial” for Joffrey murder. Father was the head judge at the trial so, of course, I was found guilty. My wife was accused of having been involved too. Though she ran before they could take her.”

“Your wife?” Barristan was confused.

“Yes, my loving wife the Lady Sansa fled with the fool Ser Dontos right after Joffrey’s death.”

“Sansa Stark!” The Hand of the Queen was appalled.

He had met Sansa Stark in Kingslanding, she had seemed a sweet enough girl, and he had always felt a great deal of guilt for fate. But the girl was still half a child, she could not have been more than fourteen years. Tyrion did not look too sad at his wife’s disappearance, and Barristan has heard the sarcasm in his voice when he called Sansa his _“loving” _wife.

“Yes, Sansa Stark. It wasn’t my choice believe me, but the Tyrell’s were hatching plots to wed her to their heir Willas and, well, father couldn’t have that now could he.” Tyrion cocked his head and gave Barristan a curious look. “So naturally, Lord Tywin saw that the only solution was to marry her to the highest ranking available Lannister. That should be he or Jamie but neither of them are open for marriage so the poor maid had me as her husband.”

Barristan had heard enough of Tyrion’s marriage, he could not bring himself to think of what that poor girl had endured any longer. He changed the subject.

“You said you were found guilty of Joffrey’s murder, were you? Guilty I mean?” He asked instead.

“No, I can’t say I was.” Tyrion stared at the bottom of his cup.

“Then how did you get here, did Lord Tywin exile you?”

Tyrion scoffed. “Of course not, my father wanted me beheaded.”

“Then how are you here?”

“I escaped.” Tyrion put his cup down for the first time. “Varys helped me, booked me passage on a ship and sent me to Pentos.”

“What of your father? Surely he would have had you well under guard.” Barristan was surprised he had not heard of this earlier.

“That he did, but my brother Jamie helped too. The guards weren’t like to stop the Kingslayer now we’re they. But you’re right, father wouldn’t have allowed me to leave nor would he have allowed me to live if I had stayed. So I’m sure you’ll understand why I had to kill him.”

This time Ser Barristan truly was speechless. _I knew the man was a drunkard and a letch, but I never thought him a kinslayer. _He looked across at his companion, staring straight into his mismatched green and black eyes. He saw no remotest in those eyes. Barristan felt as if he might be sick, he stood to leave and called to the unsullied at the door.

“Leaving so soon? I haven’t even told you the best but yet.” Tyrion muttered behind him, he had picked up his cup again and was taking a small sip.

Ser Barristan stopped where he stood, he did not want to look at that man again. _He killed his own father, we should not let him anywhere near Daenerys and we certainly shouldn’t listen to his advice. _But Selmy knew that this man could also be a valuable prisoner and hostage in Westeros.

“What is that?” He asked finally, giving in and sitting back down again.

The imp smiled and drained his cup. “Tell me Ser Barristan, where you there?”

“Was I where?” He was growing tired of the Imps games, _if he stalls for one minute longer I may end up strangling him._

“Kingslanding, after the sack that is.” Tyrion asked as he refilled his cup once more.

“No, I surrendered to Robert after Rhaegar fell on the Trident. I never saw the sack.” _And it’s a good thing I didn’t. _

“But you do know, of course, what happened in the sack. What happened to Rhaegar’s children.” Barristan nodded. “It was a terrible thing. They say Ser Armory Lorch stabbed the princess Rhaenys half a hundred times, and the Mountain dashed little prince Aegon’s head against a wall.”

Barristan clenched his teeth in anger. “I need no reminding of what was done to them. Why are you telling me this.”

“Because, Rhaenys was three and unmistakeable even after her death. But Aegon, well, one babe looks much like another. Especially when his head has been bashed in.” Tyrion gave a cruel smile.

It took a moment for the old knight to realise what the imp was saying. “You don’t mean…”

“Yes, good Ser, Prince Aegon is alive and in Westeros as we speak. Or at least he should be.” He smirked again. “The lad was intent on coming here when first I met him. He wished to marry Daenerys, he saw it as his right as her closest living relative. Have no fear Ser Barristan, i dissuaded him from that course of action for now. Instead I told him he should begin his conquest at once. So that is why he will be in Westeros with the Golden Company right now, preparing to invade if he has not begun to do so already.”

“But, how did the boy survive.” Barristan asked, too shocked to think of anything else to ask.

“You know Jon Connington yes?” Barristan nodded. “Well, my good friend Lord Varys entrusted the boy to him after the false Aegon was killed in Kingslanding.”

_Lord Connington was always devoted to Rhaegar, it makes sense that he would protect the Princes son but…. _“So was it Lord Varys who switched the babes?”

“It was. The boy who died was a tanners son from Pisswater bend. The pisswater prince if you will.”

“And what of the Princess Elia?” Barristan asked. “Did she know about this?”

“I assume she must have done. She was they boys mother she would have been the only person to realise if the babe in the crib was not her own.”

“Then I’m afraid you are wrong, the boy you met cannot have been Aegon.” Barristan said, sitting up straight in his seat.

“And why is that?” Tyrion cocked his head.

“Because Elia loved her children. I saw it for myself. She would not have sent prince Aegon away with the spider and kept the Princess Rhaenys in Kingslanding with herself to die a horrible death.”

Tyrion frowned. “It’s like I said, the girl was too recognisable to-”

They were interrupted before Tyrion could finish his sentence. A noise came from outside of hundreds upon thousands of unearthly screams. They ran to the balcony to see what was happening. Down below the walls of Meereen, a Dothraki hoard of over 100,000 riders were charging at the gate. Tyrion looked up at Barristan with a look of horror on his face.

The unsullied guards at the door ran out and began to shout at each other, everyone tying to find Greyworm and find out what they were to do next. The Dothraki weren’t entering the city. They stopped their horses as soon as they reached the walls, but they still screamed and waved their arakh’s in the air.

Then Ser Barristan heard a sound he knew all too well. It was quiet at this distance, and his ageing ears almost didn’t hear it, but he looked to the sky all the same. Tyrion saw where he was looking and followed his gaze. At first, it looked like nothing more than a spec, it could easily have been a fly or a gull in the distance, but soon enough the sight was unmistakable.

Tyrion’s mouth opened and he staggered backwards as the black dragon continued to fly towards them, screeching as it flew. As Drogon flew over the Dothraki they screamed even louder, and as he flew across the city even the Meereenese began to cheer in the streets below.

The dragon landed on the top of the great pyramid so Barristan and Tyrion had to turn and look up at it. Drogon roared so loudly that the old knight truly did go deaf for a moment, and Tyrion near fell of the balcony with fright. And he looked like he might jump of voluntarily when Drogon began to scale the walls of the pyramid and climb down towards them.

Barristan saw as the dragon came closer, that he had a rider in his back. And when he reached their balcony he lowered his shoulder so that they could climb down.

_Daenerys_

Ser Barristan dropped to one knee and felt his eyes grow wet with tears of relief. “Your Grace.” He said lifting his head to look at her. “We have missed dearly.”

The Queen walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Rise my friend.” She smiled. “I have missed you too.” Then she glanced at Tyrion and Barristan saw her eyes harden. “But I think we both will have a lot of explaining to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a Varys quote from the show.
> 
> So Davos’ dream about how he was the one to smuggle Dany away, I have no idea how canon that is, I was just rereading the bit where he talks to the guys in the inn and I wondered how he knew so much about Daenerys. No one else there even knew her name but he knew her name and who she was named after, he could have heard it from a servant at Dragonstone but I like this more. Also, he seemed a little but too good at smuggling Edric Storm away for that to have been his first time smuggling children.
> 
> Next chapter: Jon gets some advice on how to live his new life. Daenerys is caught up on what she’s missed.
> 
> Thank you for reading, the actually interesting plot stuff will be coming in next chapter and the one after it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think :)


	8. Better And Better Lies

-JON II-

“My lady.” It was a term of courtesy and the only one she would be getting from Jon.

“Lord Commander.” Asha Greyjoy replied, in a tone near identical to Jon’s.

“I’m not the Lord Commander anymore.” He said icily, he was still recovering from his death and he did not want Asha Greyjoy to see just how damaged his mind was.

“Either way, I need to speak with you.” The woman sat down in a chair across the table from him, not bothering to wait for him to offer.

“And I you.” Jon sat down too now. “What did you need to say?”

“Jeyne, you know who she is.” Asha did not wait for him to comment on that. “So I want you to let me take her with me when I go.”

“Take her with you where?” Jon asked through gritted teeth, though he already knew the answer.

“The iron islands.” Asha raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly as if Jon were An idiot or a child. “Don’t act as if you didn’t know I was going to leave. I’m only waiting for my brother and then we’re going home. Only Theon would rather have the girl with him when we do.”

“And why is that?” It took everything in Jon to restrain himself, he knew he would never allow Theon to live much less escape back home and take Jon’s “sister” with him.

“Fuck if I know, he feels responsible for all the shit she’s been through, and he’s been through more than his share too so don’t look at me like that.”

“You think Selyse is going to let you and Theon leave here?” Jon laughed. “You think she’ll let you take Jeyne whom she believes to be the last living Stark in existence?”

“That my-” Asha began, but Jon did not let her finish.

“And don’t you dare say you want me to have any part in it. If I ever see Theon Greyjoy again I will kill him where he stands.”

“If you think I’ll let you anywhere near my little brother you’re a fool.” Asha hissed, leaning forwards across the table.

“Your _little brother _murder my littles brothers.” Jon finally lost it, he leapt from his seat and yelled in her face. “How many men did it take for him to kill them? 20? Rickon was three years old Bran was a cripple! He could not even walk and Theon cut their throats and hanged them from the gates of their home!”

“No he didn’t!” Asha stood too and slammed her hands onto the desk.

“Don’t try an-”

“He never touched the Stark boys!” Asha spat. “He couldn’t find them so he killed two peasant boys from the Winterstown in their stead.”

Jon froze. _She’s lying, she wants you to be on her side, it’s a trick don’t trust her. _His mind was screaming that she was wrong, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up again. But then he remembered when he had run from the Wildlings, that a direwolf had helped him, a direwolf he was sure had been Brans. _It _was _bran, not dead like I was, he was alive and in control of his wolf. _

_Bran and Rickon are alive, or at least Theon didn’t kill them. _But that was not enough for Jon to forgive Theon, not after everything. And even if the boys weren’t dead, they had spent the past few years on the run, thrown from their home alone and afraid. _Theon may not have killed Bran and Rickon, but he killed Robb, whether he meant to or not his actions killed Robb just as much as the Frey’s did. _

“Get out.” Jon said.

“But Jey-” Asha protested.

“Get out!” He yelled, slamming his fists into the table so hard he felt something crack.

Asha took a step back and turned away. When she was at the door she looked back at him.

“I’m not staying here waiting to see if Stannis wins or not. As soon as my brother arrives I’m leaving. Whether Jeyne comes too is up to you.”

With that she left, and Jon had no idea how he was supposed to feel. He knew he should tell Selyse that Asha was planning on escaping, that Theon had probably already escaped from Stannis, but he also knew that if he did tell the Queen, Asha could very easily reveal Jeyne’s identity. And that wasn’t what any of them needed.

Jon still wasn’t entirely sure why he had even let the girl stay, but he knew they had to keep up the farce. The Northerners only followed the Bolton’s because they believed that Ramsey had married Ned Stark’s daughter, just as they would only now trust Stannis if they believed that he had saved Arya Stark and was going to make her the Lady of Winterfell. If the Northerners found out Arya was never there, that Ramsey Bolton married a stewards daughter, there was no telling what they would do or who they’d side with.

Letting Jeyne stay as Arya for now meant that Stannis could rid Winterfell of the Bolton’s and being the North back together. _And that’s what we really need now. To work together. _And now that Jon knew Bran and Rickon were alive, if either of them were to return to the North they would recognise Jeyne and become the Lord of Winterfell. Or perhaps the real Arya might hear that she had become the Lady of Winterfell, and return home to see what was going on.

Either way would not work out well for Jeyne. _Theon helped her escape Winterfell, Asha kept her safe on the way to the Wall, _Jon knew deep down that the Greyjoy’s truly did care for Jeyne and would keep her safe. _But no one will ever believe that I sent my sister to the Iron Islands for “_safe keeping” _they’d know something was wrong, and Selyse would never allow it. _

He sighed and put his head in his hands. On top of all the stress of Stannis and Jeyne and Asha, he had no idea what _he_, Jon, was going to do next. _I died, according to my vows my watch has ended, I can go. _But where would he go? He had no home anymore, and the Wall might need him, the Wall would need him. His brothers would need him. _Your brothers killed you, the Wall killed you, they will kill you again. _

There was a knock on the door suddenly. “Who is it?” Jon called.

In answer, the door opened and Queen Selyse and the Princess Shireen entered the room. Jon stood. “Your grace.”

“Please sit.” Selyse said while taking her own seat in the chair opposite Jon’s, little Shireen up on her knee. “I thought I might discuss some things with you.”

“Of course.” He replied. He noticed the way Shireen’s eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates and the girl was clearly itching to ask something.

“I hear the Lady Melisandre did not survive her… _experience.” _The Queen began. “And while we are all glad of your continued survival, I can not help but feel aggrieved for the loss of my closets advisor and friend.”

“I understand your pain, your grace.” Jon understood grief as much as anyone. “And I can’t say I know or understand what the red woman did to bring me-”

“She gave her life for yours!” Shireen butted in excitedly. “She told me only death could pay for life, she was scared to do it, but she did it. It was magic!”

“Don’t interrupt.” Her mother snapped. “The Lady Melisandre’s death is no reason to be excited. And it wasn’t magic, it was the Lords will.”

The Queen turned to Jon now, she looked him straight in the eyes and Jon almost knew what she would say, even before she said it.

“The Lord killed you for a reason, he brought you back _for a reason_. Your vows state that your watch will not end until your death. You have died. Your watch has ended, your vows are done. If you were to leave Castle Black, you could do so with a clear conscience and do what you know to be right for your family. Leave Castle Black and fight with Stannis. If he wins he may grant you Winterfell over your sister. This is your chance, this is Stannis’ chance.”

“Thank you for the offer, your Grace.” Jon replied flatly. “I shall think on what you have said.”

As the two left the room, Jon truly did consider the offer. _If I was the Lord of Winterfell, no one would suspect anything were amiss with Jeyne, I could protect them, I could prepare the North for what’s to come. _

Boy Jon knew the truth would come out soon enough. _Jeyne is not truly Arya. I can’t lie about that. And what if my brother. If Bran and Rickon truly are still alive then surely I cannot be made the lord of Winterfell before the last real Lord Starks trueborn sons. _

Eventually Jon gave up on his thoughts. He stood and made his way to his rooms.

Ghost was already there when he arrived, he had tried to curl up on the end of the bed as he had so often done as a pup. But at the size he had now reached it was almost impossible for him to fit on the bed with Jon there also.

Jon sat on the edge of his bed to remove his boots along with the rest of his clothes. He tried not to look down at himself, every time he saw the scars he would relive it all over again, the pain, the betrayal, the cold. He did not like to see his skin either. It had changed to a pale fleshy green colour in death and showed no sign of changing back.

Ghost lifted his head and looked at him, red eyes wide. Jon reached over and scratched the wolf behind the ears. He had always considered Ghost his best friend, but it was different now, he hadn’t just seen through his eyes he had lived in his skin, been trapped in the wolf’s mind and forced to look at his own corpse.

He curled himself under the covers and huddled against the wolf for warmth just as he had done North of the Wall. When sleep finally came for him, he knew he would dream that night. And dream he did.

He dreamt what he had first dreamt with the Halfhand. A pack of wolves, scattered, some hidden, some dead. They were close though, he knew they were close. He saw his wild brother, with his black fur and green eyes, he was on the cold salt water, the floor was made of wood and kept slipping beneath his paws.

Then the dream changed and he was being pulled away, beyond the wall where his other brother stood at the head of a pack. They were hunting, feeding, beneath a giant white tree. Jon saw the face on the tree, it was the same as before, the face was Bran. Bran with his mouth half open and his three eyes crying tears of blood red sap.

Finally he was pulled south again. He was in a forest, the trees were still green in some places and orange or red in others, but snow was falling on them. He heard the first howl and it did not sound to far away, it was long and lonely at first, but soon it was joined by many others. The woods around him were alive and the snow that fell trebled at the noise. Through the dark he could see her eyes, golden and glowing as she stalked through the trees. She was twice the size of the largest wolf in her pack, but somehow she was also twice as quiet.

_Nymeria, _Jon thought. The great she- wolf walked past him and lead her pack on towards the distant sign of a campfire, where men would no doubt be sleeping.

Jon woke drenched in sweat. Ghost was still beside him, giving him a knowing look.

“It’s ok boy.” He said, wrapping his arms around the wolf and burying his face in Ghosts fur. “It was just a dream.”

But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. _I need to speak to Val_, he decided. No one who grew up south of the Wall knew half as much about the Old Gods magic as she did. Jon knew she wasn’t an expert, she often said as much, but at least she knew more than him.

He found her in Hardins tower as he knew he would. And she listened to his dream just as he knew she would. He told her everything about the dream, and about what Asha had said, he even told her about Jeyne.

“You’ve has those dreams before, haven’t you?” She asked when he had finished.

“Aye,” he said “once, when I was North of the Wall.”

“Then what are you asking me?” She asked.

Jon didn’t know what he was asking, not yet. “I don’t know,” he admitted “I just thought you might know what it meant.”

Val chuckled a little, “well I’m afraid I can’t really help you there,” she paused for a second, “ but I might know someone who can.”

She told him to stay there, then she stood and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a girl who could not have been any older than he was. The girl stopped abruptly when she saw him, and a voice in Jon’s mind screamed at him, _Warg! _He stood from his chair and stumbled backwards a little.

“Calm down Jon.” Val rolled her eyes. “This is Ereine, she’s like you, she might be able to help.”

Ereine look just as suspicious of Jon as Jon was of her. She turned her head slowly towards Val, never once breaking eye contact with Jon.

“This is the one you said was dead.” She whispered, just loud enough for Jon to hear.

“Yes.”

“But now he’s alive.” She turned back to face Jon, and spoke at full volume this time. “I don’t trust things that don’t stay dead.”

Val swatted the girl across the head. “I told you he’s- don’t even think about it girl, I know where you hide your claws.” Ereine gave her a withering look and took her hand away from her sleeve. “Now sit down and try to be of some help for once.”

Ereine muttered mutinously under her breath, but she took a seat beside Val all the same.

“What d’you need to know?” She asked.

Jon explained the dream to her. She creased her brow.

“That’s nothing too strange. Your siblings have wolves too don’t they?” Jon nodded, Ereine shrugged her shoulders. “Then all you’ve seen is a glimpse o’ their lives, or, their wolves’ lives by the sound o’ it.”

Jon looked down at his hands and realised there was blood under his nails. He picked away at it and waited for someone else to speak. No one did.

“So you think I saw my siblings, saw where they are?” Ereine nodded. “That’s not possible.”

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes. “Why not?”

“Because..” He wasn’t sure why not, he knew Bran and Rickon were alive now, but so many times people had told him that Arya was still alive. Arya’s with the Bolton’s, a grey girl on a dying horse, I want my bride back. Every time he knew deep down he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but every time he did, and he knew it would kill him if was wrong like that again. If he hopes again and she was really dead this time.

“Because what?” Ereine asked again, she seemed angry this time. “Because you are afraid you are wrong? Because you are afraid to know the truth. Well you already know the truth. The Gods have given you a gift most people could not even dream of, they have shown you the truth already but you continue to deny it, why?”

“Because is hurts!” He snapped.

She seemed to quieten slightly at that, then she cocked her head to the side and said. “We all hurt. But you have three living siblings in this world and that is more than most people can say. They may be able to bring you some joy, if you can find them.”

“And if I can’t?”

“What harm is there in trying.” Ereine looked down at her feet. “You’ll regret doing nothing far more than you’ll regret doing something.”

Jon noticed Val looking at the girl, it seemed neither of them had expected the girl to be of such help. She was still staring down at her feet when Val turned back to Jon.

“Does that answer your question?”

“It does.” He looked at Ereine who was fiddling with something up her sleeve which looked suspiciously like a knife. “Thank you.” She looked up for a second and nodded.

“So what will you do?” Val asked, protectively wrapping her arm around Ereine’s shoulder.

“I’ll find Arya, the real Arya.” He decided. “Nymeria was in a Forrest, it was snowing but the trees still had leaves and they weren’t the sort of trees you’d find in the North. My best guess would be the Riverlands then, I know Arya had some trouble with Nymeria and Joffrey there, if Nymeria escaped she could easily have lived there.”

It made complete sense now he said it. Rumours of a giant wolf pack in the Riverlands had only recently begun to reach Castle Black, but description of the pack leader clearly hinted to it being a direwolf.

“When will you go?” Val asked.

“Tomorrow night.” Jon wanted to be gone as soon as possible, but with as little disruption to Castle Black as he could. He had an idea then. “You could come with me if you want, both of you could.”

Val smiles and hugged Ereine a little closer. “No, we couldn’t. Your Queen wants me as her prisoner, they would never let you go if I went too. They track you down and drag you back.”

“What about you?” He knew Val was right, and he didn’t want to argue with her on this.

Ereine shook her head. “I want to stay with Val, southerners don’t much like us free folk besides.”

Jon nodded, he hadn’t truly expected either of them to accept, but it was worth a try. Now that it was just him and Ghost, he could have left that very night, but there were still people at Castle Black he had to say good bye to. I’ll do that in the morning, he thought as he trudged back to his rooms at the Old Forge. And when he closed his eyes, he prayed for a dreamless sleep this time.

-DAENERYS I-

“It sounds as if you’ve done quite well in my absence.” Daenerys smiled at her now formally recognised Hand of the Queen.

“It wasn’t easy, we prayed everyday for your return.” Barristan looked slightly embarrassed. “Please forgive me if I overstepped in assuming the role of Hand,”

Daenerys stopped him before he could go any further. “There is no one in the world that I would have trusted more than you for this, and you could never overstep. You did just what I would have done.”

“That is all I tried to do.” Ser Barristan finally smiled.

“If I’m being honest I think you probably did better than I could have done.” Barristan protested slightly. “I mean it, you got the Yunkish to surrender without there having to be a battle, and you dealt with the Ironborn in a way I wouldn’t have been able to.”

“We should talk more about the Ironborn, Victarion Greyjoy will return and he’s determined to wed you when he does.” Barristan’s face fell to a concerned frown as he spoke.

Daenerys scoffed. “Why is it, I wonder, that every Westerosi man who comes to Meereen comes here with the intention of marrying me? First the Martell and now this Greyjoy. At least Quentyn was closer to mine own age, Victarion is likely old enough to be my father. I shan’t marry him.”

“Well on the topic of marriage, there is your current husband we should discuss.”

Daenerys felt her rage beginning to fill her, she knew now about Hizdar’s attempt on her life, an attempt that had almost killed Strong Belwas in her stead. She had already, long ago, decided that she would not take him to Westeros, as for her to rule in Westeros she would need a husband from that country. _But that husband will not be Victarion Greyjoy nor any other member of his family, that I swear to myself. _

It was unfortunate for her now that Quentyn Martell was no longer an option. She had felt slightly guilty at his death, as Ser Barristan had told her what Rhaegal had done. How he had only badly burned him and not eaten him, how he’d left the boy burnt and broken, screaming in agony until death finally came. _That is not my fault, the Dragons are my children but I was not there, and it was _his _decision to try and ride one. He was a fool to do so. _

“Yes,” she agreed “we should talk about Hizdar. I have no intention of keeping him as my husband or letting him live. He tried to poison me, that alone is treason. And we mustn’t forget his involvement with the Sons of the Harpy.”

“No, we mustn’t.” Barristan agreed. “Very well then. We’ll execute him. What of the other prisoners.”

Barristan did not mince words when referring to their prisoners this time. In truth Daenerys wasn’t sure what she would do. Jorah Mormont had betrayed her, sold secrets and information about her to the Spider and King Robert. But he had come back to her. Barristan had told her what her former advisor had been through, how he had been sold into slavery and locked in a cage.

Then there was the other prisoner. _The Imp_, Tyrion Lannister. The man had escaped Kingslanding and run to the free cities after killing his father and allegedly killing King Joffrey. He had removed some of Daenerys biggest enemies from the board, but her enemies had been his family, the man was a Kinslayer. _No man is as accursed as the kinslayer, but I myself sat by and watched as my own brother was murdered. _

She shook the thought from her head. _Viserys was cruel, stupid and weak, he beat me and would have done worse, he would have killed my with his own two hands if it had won him the Iron Throne. _

“I will speak with Lord Tyrion, he may have information that is useful to me.” She decided. “But leave Ser Jorah where he is.”

She Barristan nodded to the unsullied guards who left to fetch the dwarf. Daenerys took a moment to look out to the sky. Drogon flew over the city in wide circles. He had already burned the scorpions that had been placed on the city walls. She knew she shouldn’t let him roam so freely, he could leave again, or worse, he could stay. He could make a layer in one of the pyramids just as his brothers had, he could do more damage than the other two combined, Daenerys knew for he would be far larger than the other two now. _A dragon is not a slave, they must be left unchained or they will waist away. _

The door opened and broke her from her thoughts.

“Your grace.” The dwarf gave a slightly sarcastic bow. He glanced out of the window at Drogon. “Should I be worried.”

“Not for now.” Daenerys replied, coolly. “Please sit.”

As Tyrion sat down into an armchair, Ser Barristan shuffle slightly in his own seat, leaning further towards his queen and away from the Imp.

“Ser Barristan tells me you have some interesting news for me.” She prompted.

“I might.” He cocked his head to the side. “That depends on what I’ll get in return.”

“Your life.” Daenerys was in no mood for games.

“I already have that,” Tyrion smirked “I’m thirsty, if you would be so kind as to send for some wine I would be more than happy to tell you what I know.”

Daenerys only just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Would my lord care for some supper too? Should I send to the kitchens for some bread and olives?” She asked sarcastically.

“Now that you mention it, supper would be nice.” Tyrion said, still smirking.

_Well done Daenerys, he’s already winning. _She nodded to a guard, she had no other choice now, and he left to find someone to bring them food.

“Now tell me.” She commanded.

“What do you know of your brothers children.” Tyrion asked, the smirk vanished from his face.

“Aegon and Rhaenys?” She scrunched her brow, trying to remember what Viserys had told her. “They were murdered in The Sac, Rhaenys was stabbed to death by one of your fathers men and Aegon had his head dashed agains a wall by the Mountain. Another one of your fathers men.”

“That is what most believe.”

“But not you?”

“No.” Tyrion Ser his brow in a straight line and leant towards her across the glass table. “On my way here, I met a young man going by the name _young Griff _who claimed to be prince Aegon, alive and in hiding.”

Daenerys did not even try to hide her shock. _If he survived he would be the last family I have. He would barely be any older than me. _She remembered the times when Viserys used to tell her that if they had won the war, he would have married Rhaenys and she, Daenerys, would have married Aegon. She knew Aegon was closer to her in age than Viserys was.

_The dragon has three heads, _the voice inside hers reminded. So many times she had heard those words and wondered, _who are the other two, the only two men in all the world whom I can completely trust. _And now she knew, Aegon must be one of the heads and she another. He would ride one of her dragons and they would take back their families Kingdom together. They had to.

_But he is a man, he Rhaegar’s son, the son of the heir. I am only the sister to the heir, even if I were a boy, his claim would be greater. _What if Aegon did not want her help, what if he, like Quentyn and Victarion and so many others before them, would see her only as bride. See her only for her dragons. See her only as a chance to cement his claim and father Valyrian children.

_But I cannot have children, can I? _Her mind flitted back to her time alone on the Dothraki sea. Her moons blood had come, she could not remember the last time she’d had it, but was that really what it was. _Think about that later, Daenerys, that is not an issue for now. _

“I know that this will not be good news for you.” Tyrion’s voice broke her from her thoughts. “But if you-”

“Why would this not be good news for me?” She asked, she already knew the answer, but she would not let the dwarf see her doubt. “If what you say is true then this man will be my family, he will be the last of my family. I wish to meet him, to embrace him, to rule with him one day.”

The look on Tyrion’s face told her that she had surprised him. “Well, that is good. He wants to meet you too.”

“Then where is he?”

“Let me speak and I’ll tell you. He’s already in Westeros- don’t even think of interrupting me again, your grace. He was on his way to meet you, to ask for your help in conquering the seven kingdoms. I discussed him from this. Instead, he took the Golden Company and sailed them to Westeros, by now, they should be well underway with their invasion.”

This upset Daenerys slightly. The man before claimed to help her yet he had sent her last living relation away to war without her when Aegon would surely need her aid if he hoped to win.

She opened her mouth to tell him this when the door opened.

“Ah, I see the food has finally arrived.” Tyrion exclaimed.

A young, dark haired girl wearing clothes that reminded Daenerys of what the Braavosi wore, slowly walked towards them with a tray of food, a jug of wine and two goblets. The girl glanced nervously over at Ser Barristan a few times, and she seemed entirely determined not to look at Tyrion at all. Daenerys looked at Barristan and noticed him squinting at the girl slightly. She looked at Tyrion too though he seemed far too interested in pouring himself a drink than in the girl serving him.

“I don’t know you.” Daenerys said, addressing the girl in the bastard Valyrian of Braavos. “Where are my normal cupbearers, Quezza or Draqaz or one of the others.”

“Forgive me, your Grace. I am new to your household. I work in the kitchens and they needed someone to bring this quickly, none of your cupbearers were there. If I am not to your liking I can go and find a cupbearers of your choosing.” The girl said, also speaking bastard Valyrian though not as well as Daenerys did, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Daenerys recognised her accent immediately. “You are from Westeros!” She exclaimed. “The North, yes?”

The girl finally looked up at her, she had a long face and cold grey eyes. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“What is your name?”

“Jeyne, Your Grace.”

“Well you needn’t look so frightened Jeyne,” Daenerys smiled “where in the North are you from, how did you come to Meereen?”

“I come from Barrowtown, Your Grace.” Jeyne began, somewhat hesitantly. “I travelled to, to the Salty town to find passage away from, from Westeros. I found a ship from the Arbor, it, it was bringing wine here. I found a job in kitchens here.”

Daenerys glanced quickly at Ser Barristan who seemed to be thinking the same thing as she was, _why is this girl so nervous? _Even Tyrion had noticed the tension in the room now, he put his goblet down and sat back in his chair, looking the girl up and down.

“You speak bastard Valyrian quite well, did you learn that on the ship?” Daenerys asked, she was not trying to scare the girl, simply find out some more about her. But she could see the fear in the girls eyes. “Is that where you got those clothes, because they don’t look Westerosi.”

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it. She stuttered some small agreement the bit her lip. Tyrion shifted in his seat slightly, trying to see the girl from the front, Barristan did the same. Suddenly, the look in the girls eyes changed, there was no more fear, no more anxiety. Now Daenerys could see they were full of rage.

Jeyne darted towards Daenerys so quickly she could hardly see what was happening. The girl reached a hand to her sleeve and Daenerys opened her mouth to shout, but then the girl was flying backwards across the floor. Tyrion was standing where the table had been, and Daenerys realised what had happened. Jeyne was lying on her back drenched in the wine she had brought for them, the table was lying on its back behind her.

Daenerys should have been used to having attempts made on her life at that point, but the age and apparently innocence of this girl had taken her by surprise. She realised she was shaking, and felt Tyrion’s reach out to her own.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“No.” She choked out. “Guards! Take her.”

Two unsullied picked Jeyne up off of the floor. The girl struggled at first, even pulling out the knife that she had hidden up her sleeve, the one that had been meant for Daenerys. But the unsullied were bigger and stinger than her, and the girl was still wiping wine from out of her eyes.

As the Unsullied carried her out of the room, Jeyne did not cry or scream, she simply stared at Tyrion as if the man was evil himself.

“Thank you.” Daenerys said to Tyrion when she had regained her composure.

Tyrion shook his head. “I owed you that.” She furrowed her brow. “We’ve met before, well not quite but… you saved my life. In the fighting pits, you stopped them from sending in the lions.” He chuckled slightly. “Wouldn’t that have been an ironic end for me?”

“That was you?” She remembered now, the mock Joust, two dwarves riding a pig and a dog.

Tyrion smirked again and sat back down in his chair. Daenerys looked at Ser Barristan who was still staring at the door.

“Ser, are you well?” She asked.

He turned slowly to face her. “I know that girl.”

“How?”

“I can’t quite say, but I know that I have seen her face before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dany is back, yay!  
Also, this is finally where I wanted to start the plot a bit more. So I’m sure you’ve all guessed who “Jeyne” in Meereen really is, I thought it would be ironic to use that name.  
Next time we will see Bran, Jon and Arya  
Please comment I really appreciate hearing what you guys think :)


	9. It’s Just A Sword

-JON III-

Castle black had never been his home, not truly. To him, this has been the place where he had become a man, where he’d fought his first battles, where he’d learned how to follow and how to lead. Now it was only the place where he had died.

Jon remembered the looks on the men’s when he’d hung them. Some were scared or ashamed, or angry, or completely consumed by the irony of the situation; a man they had killed was now executing them for his own murder. Jon almost laughed himself, but the action still made his lungs and chest ache, so he didn’t.

On his last day in Castle Black, Jon had said goodbye to the few people there he would truly miss. He tried to do it in a way that would not arouse suspicion, he knew no one would stop him leaving, but he did not wish it to common knowledge, _lest Stannis or the Bolton’s get word of it. _

He had said farewell to Satin first, his steward. Val told him that his steward had been one of only three of his brothers to stay with him after he died. Satin cried silent tears when Jon told him he was leaving, Jon thought he might have done too, but no tears came.

Tormund and Leathers been atop the Wall. Tormund has clapped him on the back so hard Jon had feared he that he would be nocked over the edge; then the wildling, for once in his life, was entirely sincere.

“Well then Crow, if you think finding your sister is what the Gods have planned for you, then you don’t need our permission. Go. Find her.” He rested his hand on leathers shoulder. “And you can sure fucking bet that we’ll be praying for the both o’ yous.”

As he thought on Tormund’s words he couldn’t help but wonder, _is this what the Gods have planned for me?_ Why was he really doing this, really leaving? Because of the dream? Or because it was what he had truly wanted to do all along? _Surely the dream must have come from the Old Gods. _Warging, Seeing, whatever the dream had been, it was the Northern magic that gave him these gifts. _The blood of the first men flows through my veins, _he thought, _the first men and the children were at peace before the Andals, these gifts must come from the Old Gods. _

The wildling girl, Ereine, she had said the same thing Jon recalled. In the darkness around him, he could only just make out the shape of her leaning into one of the stable stalls. She was saying something, though Jon was too far away to hear what.

The hackles on the back of ghosts neck shot up and his mouth twisted into a silent snarl. Ghost never made any noise, so he hadn’t worried to much about him being upset by the other animals, but the animals in the stables did make noise when they sensed the direwolf.

Ereine stood up straight and whipped her head around as the creatures in the stall before her alerted her to Jon’s presence. There was no point in him trying to sneak away now. He walked over to her instead.

“You leaving?” She asked.

“Aye, I just came for a horse.” He had packed himself enough food for three weeks, and was relying largely on Ghost to find them food once they ran out, but he was still bringing Longclaw, his Dirk, a longbow and a quiver of arrows so he wouldn’t be too dependent on the wolf for food or protection.

“Well they’re o’er there.” Ereine gestured vaguely time the end stalls. “You wouldn’t have a spare key would you?”

“Yes, but you can’t have it.” Jon said, looking down at the two shadowcats in the stall beside the girl. One was sleeping peacefully, the other pacing back and forth and snarling.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll let them out.”

“So?”

“So…” truthfully, Jon did not know why they shouldn’t be let out. If Ereine really wanted to do the people here harm she could break them out of the stables easily, but instead she was asking for them nicely. “Fine, just don’t go letting them eat anyone.”

The girl smirked. “Well that depends on whether o’ not anyone deserves t’ be eaten.”

Jon sighed and walked down to where the horses were. He found a palfrey that looked to be in as good a shape as horses could be at the wall. He unlocked the door and led the creature out. She shied away when she first saw ghost, but she came round to the wolf soon enough.

Once all his bags were secure on the horses back and he had checked he had everything, he turned and walked back to Ereine. He handed her the key. She looked skeptical at first, but she took it, even giving him a genuine smile as she did.

“I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” She said, suddenly entirely serious.

“And I you.” Jon nodded.

He wouldn’t ride on the Kingsroad he decided, the chance of being recognised was too high, so he angled the horse towards the woods and kicked his spurs in. As the reached the tree line Jon smiled, he was finally going to find Arya.

-BRAN III-

The castle around him was crumbling and disfigured, it looked more like five great candle sticks all melted together than it did a castle. Even in its ruined state however, it was still the largest castle Bran had ever seen, and he knew which castle it was. He had seen the even that had caused its current state, he had seen horrors that had happened here, he had even seen his own sister Arya hiding here as a prisoner during the war.

Today he was seeing the castle as he had never seen it before, it was bustling, full of life and colour and people. Servants rushed around him carrying armour and weapons. Bran and the three eyed crow follow the sound of cheering and horses until they come into a clearing with seats placed around a long stretch of clear ground with two men sat on horse back at either end. They are at a joust, a tourney.

He could only see the back of the man closest to him and the man at the other end was too far away to get a good look at. Bran moved so he could see more clearly who everyone was. The riders kicked their heels into their mounts and charged at each other, gras and dirt flew out behind them from the weight and force of their war horses. The two competitors collided in a great crash of splintering wood and the clang of metal rang out across the field. Bran moved forwards to see what had happened and heard gasps from crowd.

The man who had been nocked from his horse was helped up by his squire, both men then turned to face the crowd, they were looking up at a man clad in the red and black of the house of the Dragon.

“I declare the Knight of the Laughing Tree the winner of this tilt.” Cheers erupted from the crowds.

_The knight of the laughing tree, _bran had heard that name before, and even as the knight spoke, Bran knew what he was about to say.

“I will take neither this mans horse nor armour.” The knight said. “I require only for you to teach your squire respect.”

The other knight nodded and shook the laughing tree knights hand. Bran looked out to the crowd to see if he recognised any of the houses. _There are Targaryens here so I it can’t have been too long ago_

A banner caught his eye, the grey direwolf of house Stark. There were three young men sat before it and a man who Bran assumes was their father. He felt his chest begin to tighten as he recognised the boy closest to him instantly. It was his uncle Benjen.

Benjen looked to be around the same age Bran was, but he was unmistakably Benjen. _That means… _Bran looked to the boy sitting at Benjen’s right and felt tears prick his eyes. His father had to be close to Meera’s age, as this tournament must have taken place before the Rebellion. But this Eddard Stark looked no different to the Bran had seen in Winterfell before his fall, this was the very same man, yet he seemed far more free than Bran’s father had been. There was no _Lord Stark _in this mans face, but there was no _father _either. He was just a young man, before he became Lord, before he lost his family.

The two men on the other side of Brans father had to be Lord Rickard and Brandon, Brans uncle and grandfather who had been burnt alive by the mad king. Bran looked up again at the man in the high seat, the man in Targaryen colours. _That has to be Aerys, and the man beside him must be Rhaegar. _

To Bran, Rhaegar looked like what a prince should look like. He had seen Tommen and Joffrey at Winterfell, but Tommen has been fat and Joffrey rude, so neither of them had seemed all that regal in his opinion. Rhaegar wore black armour with the three headed dragon of his house on the sigil. He had a curious look on his face as he looked down at the knight of the laughing tree and the man he had just beaten.

The next two competitors were being called to the lists so the laughing tree knight was leaving, they seemed to be in a hurry to get away. Bran moved closer to the audience so he could take a closer look at his father and at king Aerys, and then Bran knew why the Knight was in such a hurry to leave.

“Rhaegar.” He heard the king say. “I do not trust that knight, I do not trust in men who refuse to show their faces. Find him, find him and bring him to me.”

The princes’ face was completely blank, it showed no clue of his feelings to this. “Yes your grace.” The prince bowed and left in the same direction as the knight, signalling to two men to follow him.

_He won’t find them, _bran thought as he trailed after Rhaegar, _Meera told me they never found the knight, they only found his armour in the Godswood._ That was when, to Brans horror, he realised they were walking towards the Godswood, he recognised it from when he had seen Arya there.

Prince Rhaegar had the two Kingsguard circle around the Godswood, searching for the knight and ensuring they could not escape, he himself walked straight through the wood towards the hearttree. Standing before the tree was the knight. They had taken their helmet off and were fiddling with the straps of their chest plate. Bran caught up to prince Rhaegar and stood right beside him, both of them staring at the knight who had not yet noticed their presence.

“Are you in need of assistance, Ser?” Rhaegar asked, slightly ironically.

The knight whipped round to face them, sword in hand. Bran recognised them instantly, he had seen their face in so many visions before this, how could he not know his aunt Lyanna Stark. Bran looked from his aunt to prince Rhaegar, the prince looked even more surprised than Bran was, his mouth fell open and he seemed suddenly very embarrassed.

“No, thank you,” Lyanna snapped, flushing slightly red herself “I can manage my own armour, your grace.”

“You- you’re,” Rhaegar stuttered “you’re Lord Rickard’s daughter, are you not?”

“Yes.” Bran realised this was the oldest he had ever seen Lyanna as she looked the last dragon straight in the eye, seemingly entirely I afraid of him.

“Please forgive me, I do not know your name.”

“Lyanna, your Grace.”

“Well, _Lyanna_, I’m afraid this is going to be a problem for the both of us.” Rhaegar gestured to her shield and armour.

“Why is that?” Lyanna folded her arms.

“Because my father the kings wishes me to bring you to him for punishment.” Lyanna’s fearless expression slipped for a second. “But I don’t think that would be a good idea, do you?”

Lyanna shook her head.

“No, I think it is best that the Knight of the Laughing Tree remains a mystery knight, yes?” Rhaegar cocked his head to the side.

“Yes.” Lyanna muttered.

Rhaegar opened his mouth and began to say something else, but Bran could not hear it, the world around him began to twist as he felt Bloodraven’s hand gripping his shoulder. He was being pulled to a new place, his feet his the ground and he saw his father before him again, slightly older and clad in armour.

Bran and Bloodraven watched as his father and six other men battled three men clad in dragon armour and white cloaks, the Kingsguard. By the end of the fight, only Brans father and one other man remained, Bran recognised the lizard sigil he wore.

“He’s a Reed?” Bran asked the Crow.

“Howland Reed, Jojen and Meera’s father.”

A scream cut through the air around them. Bran watched his father turn and run up the steps of the tower behind him. Bran looked briefly to his teacher who nodded for him to follow.

When he reached the top of the tower, running on two legs as he only ever could in his visions, he found his father kneeling beside a bed. The sheets were drenched in blood and several women were trying to clean it off and offer comfort to the woman Bran could now see lying in the bed. As he walked closer Bran could see that the woman in the bed was his aunt Lyanna. She was whispering something to her brother that Bran could not hear.

“You have to protect him.” Lyanna spoke louder this time, though her voice was still very weak. “Promise me Ned, promise me.”

One of the women walked towards Eddard with a bundle in her arms. She handed it to him and Lyanna muttered again. “_Promise me.”_

Bran stepped closer, though he already knew what it was. His father was holding a baby. A baby that Bran knew would be brought back to Winterfell and raised as Lord Eddard Stark’s bastard son. But now Bran knew the truth. _Jon snow_ was not Ned Starks son, he was _Lyanna_ Stark’s, which meant there was only one person who could be his real father.

But just as Bran thought his vision had finished, that he would be pulled back into the cave, he felt the ground fall beneath his feet and he was in Kingslanding once more.

“You must take Rhaenys too.” Bran heard a woman pleading. His eyes took a moment to adjust before he could see the dark haired woman standing before him. “You must take both, I will not let you take one and leave the other here to die!”

The woman was arguing with a bald man dressed in the garb of a Begging Brother. In contrast to the tattered and dirtied robes of the bald man, the woman was wearing a fine silk dress in a style Bran had never seen before. Bran also saw that she wore a gold tiara wrought into the shape of a sun in her dark hair. _She must be Princess Elia_, he realised as the bald man begin to speak.

“I understand your misgivings, my dear, but you must trust that I only want what’s best for the future of the realm.” The bald man had a strange voice, high and sweet with a slight accent. An accent which was dwarfed by the Princess’s.

“I hope you do not think me such a fool that I would place my trust in Spiders.” Elia spat. Bran noticed that the Princess did not appear to be well, she was clearly enraged by her conversation with the bald man, but her face had a hollow quality to it that reminded Bran slightly of Jojen in his ill health.

“Of course not, but all the same, I am loyal to house Targaryen and I will help preserve its future. We both know Robert will win this war, just as we both know you and your children are Aerys’ hostages here. When the city falls you will all die, and the future of your house will die with you.”

“But I am not a Targaryen, dear Spider. I am a Martell. And Aegon and Rhaenys will not die, I will never let that happen.” The princess stopped and created her brow, giving the _“spider” _a puzzled look. “Do you know something I do not? You know, I am sure, that Queen Rhaella is at Dragonstone and expecting her third child?” _The child that will be the Queen, the daughter that is a Queen now. _“Should anything happen to my children, house Targaryen would love on through Viserys and his new sibling.”

“Viserys is weak, we all know he will be mad, his coin has landed. As for his _new sibling, _her Grace the Queen has had many failed births in her time, there is no telling whether either her or the babe will survive this one- a sad though I know, believe me my dear I wish it were not the case, her grace is kind and noble and I bare her no ill will, but it is the truth all the same.”

“That still does not explain why you refuse to take my daughter too.” Elia huffed. “You come here and ask me for Aegon, but say you can’t take Rhaenys to safety also?”

“As I have said Princess, Aegon is a babe and bears much resemblance to any other babe. Rhaenys is easily recognisable to anyone in the castle. It will take some time for us to find a girl similar enough to the Princess to pass as her until the war is done.”

Elia scoffed. “No one in this city can see the difference between any two Dornishmen, find any girl of three from anywhere in Dorne and no one shall suspect she isn’t Rhaenys.”

“Very well, but that will still take some time. It will be safer is you give Aegon to me now…”

Bran had been so invested in what was happening that he almost forgot he was not truly there, until the world around him twisted again this time into a castle beside the sea. Two armies prepared for battle. Bran could not recognise most of the banners on one use, but he saw the golden rose of house Tyrell scattered in between the tents.

On the other side of the field, the banners flown showed the three headed dragon of house Targaryen. A young man, likely only a few years older than Brans elder brothers had been. He had silver hair and dark purple eyes.

“Your grace.” A man approached the boy, though he did not seem to notice the man. “Your grace.” He called again, and when that did not work, “Aegon.”

“My Lord.” The young man _Aegon_ finally turned to see who was addressing him.

“It is time.”

-ARYA III-

_I have to get out. I have to get out or I will die. She caught me and now she will execute me. I was caught. I failed. Ive never failed, not once. I have to get out. But if I get out, I will still have failed. I can’t fail, _they _will kill me if I don’t, I can’t go back to them empty handed. The price was paid. It was my job to bring them the face of Daenerys Targaryen. One more Valyrian for their halls. But I failed. _

Arya had been thinking the same thing on repeat for hours, her mind would not take her anywhere else. She tried to sleep, tried to reach out and become the wolf she always was in her dreams. But her mind was too full for her to be able to sleep.

_I have to get out. They’ll have searched my room by now, they’ll have the gift and needle and Mercy’s face. They will come for me soon. I have to get out. _

She had planned everything perfectly. She would come to Meereen as herself, a Westerosi girl, and work in the kitchens until her chance to poison the Queen’s food came. Then she would use Mercy’s face to escape. Mercy was Bravosi, which meant she would stick out less in this city. _But you were stupid. You had to see the Queen for yourself. You had to ruin everything. _

When the asked for someone to serve the queen her food, Arya had been so tempted, so enticed by the thought, _no, _the _need_ to see this woman over powered her. She could not kill this woman without seeing her first, she had to know what she was doing was right.

Now she did not know if she was at all. Arya had heard so much about the Targaryens, so much about the mad king, this Queen’s father. But she had also heard of the Queen’s brother, Rhaegar. Arya’s father had never had a bad thing to say of Rhaegar, only everyone knew what the prince had done to her aunt, the woman she, Arya, supposedly resembled. Arya had been so sure that the mad kings daughter must have been like him, that she must have been mad and cruel like Joffrey had been. But she wasn’t.

When she had brought Queen Daenerys her food the queen had recognised that Arya was new to her household, she even asked after her other cupbearers. Daenerys had even recognised her accent as northern and asked about her home. Arya knee there was no malice or suspicion in her questions, she could see the Queen was truly curious, that she truly cared.

It had throw Arya off her guard to be treated in such a way. What had thrown her even more however, was the two men in the room with the Queen. Barristan Selmy and Tyrion Lannister. Arya Stark has met both of these men in Westeros, Tyrion during the Kings visit and Barristan during her time in Kingslanding.

Arya could tell the Kingsguard had recognised her, he could not place where he knew her, but he knew her. She had known that her plan would fail if Barristan told the Queen who she was. She knew she had to act before the knight could figure out who she was. She had panicked, she did not have needle, she’d only had her knife from Bravos, the one she used to cut purses. The blade was small and thin and hidden up her sleeve.

_I have to get out. _Arya had only failed because the dwarf had pushed the table at her, and that had only served to anger her. _He’s a Lannister, I should have killed him! _

_I have to get out of here. _

And then her prayer was answered.

She heard footsteps behind the door, and the metallic clink of keys hitting against each other. The cell was small and she had been pacing it for hours. There was a rim around three sides of the square cell, like a bench. It was where she supposed she was meant to sleep, but it was barely wide enough for a person to sit on let alone sleep. The bench also sloped, not much, but enough to make the threat of falling off in the night very real.

The keys clanked against the lock and Arya could hear it turning. She stood up on the ledge and backed herself into a corner that she could easily defend herself in. The door opened. Arya expected to be faced with five to ten the Queens unsullied guards coming to execute her. Instead she saw the Queen, with only two unsullied and Ser Barristan standing behind her.

Standing in front of the men, Arya could see now just how small the woman was. She could not have been much taller than Arya, but she held herself in a way that made her appear to be the tallest woman in the world.

“You may leave us.” Daenerys said to her guards, her voice was calm and cool, it gave away non of her emotions.

“Your grace…” Ser Barristan muttered from behind her, but the queen turned to look him in the eyes.

“She is a little girl and she is unarmed. What harm can she possibly do?”

“We thought her unarmed the first time as well.”

Daenerys turned to one of the unsullied. “Did you search her?” She asked in High Valyrian. Arya understood less of that language than she did of bastard Valyrian, but the roots of it were the same and Daenerys spoke it well, so it was not hard to understand.

“We searched, no more blades were found.” Said the unsullied.

“There, you see? I am safe and you will be right here.” Daenerys took a torch from the wall and stepped into Aryas cell, the door closing shut behind her. Arya was suddenly very aware of her position, crouching and hiding like a wild thing waiting to pounce.

“Please, sit.” The Queen said as she gently perched herself on the bench. Slowly, Arya unfurled her legs and lowered herself to sit on the stretch of bench opposite the Queen.

“So, I take it your name is not Jeyne.” Arya shook her head. _Why did I say Jeyne, Jeyne Poole was Sansa’s friend not mine. I should have thought of who I was before, stupid!” _

“Will you tell me what _is _your name?” Arya did not reply. “No? Alright, will you tell me why you tried to kill me?”

“No- no I-I I d- no.” Arya stammered. She did not know why she was denying it, everyone saw her try to stab the Queen, there was no mistaking what she had been doing. _Why do I feel like this now? I’ve taken lives before, I’ve been punished before. I’m not a child, I haven’t been for years, so why does this woman make me feel as if it were five years old and being caught steeling food, I am twelve years old and I’ve been caught trying to murder the Mother of Dragons. _

“No… you didn’t try to kill me?” The Queen asked, there was a familiar tone in her voice, and emotion that Arya could not quite place yet. “Is that what you’re saying, that it’s all been some misunderstanding?”

“No.” Arya said, firmly this time. _I will not let her scare me, I am a direwolf. I fear no dragon. _“I did, I was, but it, it wasn’t supposed to happen like… that. It wasn’t supposed to happen then.”

“So you were trying to kill me, you just weren’t trying to kill me _yet._” Arya looked up finally to see the expression on Daenerys face, she looked almost saddened. Her face told no emotions, but her eyes showed that she was upset about something, and somehow Arya knew it wasn’t her actions that had caused this upset, not directly at least.

“Yes.” Arya nodded, she felt guilty again so she looked down at her feet instead of into Daenerys’ sad eyes.

“Why?” The Queens voice cracked slightly as she spoke. When Arya did not reply so asked again, louder this time. “I asked, _why _were you trying to kill me?”

Arya flinch backwards, but she said nothing. _I cannot say, they worship death, I will not bring their wrath upon myself. _

“I don’t think you truly want me dead.” The Queen said after a moment had passed. “If it was truly your desire to kill me, you would do it now. We are alone in a cell, both unarmed yes, but I assume you will be far more skilled at fighting than I am. I have no doubt, that if you truly wanted me dead you could simply strangle me here and now.”

“If I did that your guards would execute me.” Arya replied, not taking her eyes from the floor.

“They are probably going to do that anyway.” The Queen gave a small, shaky laugh. “Any way, any time that you killed me, my guards would be sworn to bring you to justice. But you know that, because you’re clever, and you don’t really want me dead. That’s why you haven’t killed me. So, I’ll ask one more time. _Why were you trying to kill me?_”

“I was told to.” Arya gulped._ Don’t tell her you fool, don’t tell her. Lie, lie just make something up_. But nothing came to her mind, and her mouth was already speaking. “The faceless men, someone told them that they wanted you dead, so they sent me to kill you.”

“The faceless men?” Daenerys sighed and reached into the bag she carried with her, pulling out Mercy’s face and dropping up on the floor between them. “I assume they are something to do with… _this?”_

Arya nodded. “They taught me how to change my face, how to become no one. _That _is Mercy. She was a mummer from Bravos. I was going to use her to escape. The Bravosi are less uncommon than the Westerosi here, no one would look at me twice if I was her.”

“Why not use it from the beginning? Why not kill me as her then escape as… as how you are now.”

“How I am now is _my _face_._ I thought the Meereenese might trust a Westerosi’s motivations for wanting to work for you more than a girl of Bravos’s.”

“That is fair.” The Queen leant back slightly against the wall. “I don’t suppose you know who it was who went to the faceless men?”

“No.” Arya shook her head. “They didn’t say. I could guess if I knew more about you, more about the people around you.”

The Queen was silent for a moment, her eyes never leaving Aryas face. “Alright. If you truly can tell me who it was that hired you, tell me who wants me dead, then I will have a good reason not to have you executed. You will stay with me, everyone I meet or speak to you will judge and tell me what you think. I will even let you leave once we are done.”

“Yes I-” Arya began.

“But only if you tell me your name.” The Queen continued. “I will not have you with me if I do not know your name. You owe me that.”

Arya sat for a moment, wondering. _If I say my name, I will never be no one again, I won’t ever be able to go back. They may come after me, they may kill me. Or Daenerys may keep me safe. _Who was to say the queen would even believe her, she could think this another lie. Arya knew what she had to do.

“Yes. Call Ser Barristan in, please.” Daenerys did as Arya asked.

“Your grace?” He asked. “You have need of me?”

“No me, her.” The Queen gestured towards Arya.

“Ser Barristan,” the old knight gave her a suspicious look and rested his hand atop his blade. “I think you should know me. I think you recognised me when first you saw me.”

“Your face is familiar, though I can’t say where I might have seen you before.” The Queensguard replied, cautiously.

“That’s fair, I don’t believe we ever spoke. You would have known my father, or even my sister, better than you knew me. I saw you at Winterfell first, you came with the king. Then we rode south with you, you were there with us when I was brought before the King and Queen Cersei, when my wolf bit Prince Joffrey on the Kingsroad.”

Arya knew she had said enough. The old knights face had been twisted in confusion until she said _“my wolf”_, then he knew she could not be anyone else.

“You’re Lord Eddard’s daughter, the younger one. Arya, yes.” He gave her a kind smile, and Arya felt something inside of her crack wide open.

“Yes,” she choked as the tears began to fill in her eyes. “I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark, sister to King Robb.” She clenched her jaw and wiped her eyes though it did little to stop the flow. “Will you still let me live?” She asked the Queen.

Daenerys gave a small laugh. “I was never going to execute you, and I certainly shan’t now. You may be the most important person in Meereen for me right now.” She turned to Ser Barristan and the unsullied who had just now entered. “Have rooms prepared for Lady Arya beside mine own, have all her other belongings taken there at once. Come my lady, you must be hungry.”

As she ate, Arya could hardly realise what was happening around her. She was so shaken by what had happed. _She’s not going to do anything, she won’t punish me, she’s rewarding me. _The Queen had brought her back into her solar and had food and drink brought in for the both of them. This time the cupbearers were clearly know to Daenerys as she Queen greeted and spoke with the two children as if they were her dearest friends. Arya could only understand parts of the conversation as they spoke in High Valyrian, but what she could hear were kind words on both sides.

“You must tell me how the daughter of a very prominent Westerosi Lord found herself in Meereen.” The Queen said once they had finished eating. Arya noted that she had not changed out of riding clothes of horsehair leggings and jerkin.

“It’s a long story,” Arya began, not truly in the mood to share it. _If I tell her, I will be Arya again. I can never be no one. But you’re already someone, you can never be no one, you know that. Your list is proof of that. Needle is proof of that… _“I will tell you on one condition.”

“What is that?” Now that Arya was speaking with Daenerys on a more level ground, she could see just how young the Queen was, _she looks barely older than Sansa. _

“My sword. Needle. If you searched my belongings you should have found it.”

“I believe they did find your sword. You’ll have it back as soon as you’ve told me how you got here. Forgive me but I’m still not entirely sure if I trust you to have sharp objects around me yet.” Daenerys gave a small smirk.

“That’s fair.” Arya sucked in her breath. “I left Winterfell when I was nine, my father was made hand of the King and brought me and my sister Sansa with him to Kingslanding. He would have brought my brother Bran, but he had an accident shortly before we left. It crippled him, so he couldn’t come.”

“I’m sorry, I did not know.” The Queen genuinely looked sympathetic. “Was he your only brother?”

“No,” Arya chuckled. “I had 4. Bran and Rickon, they were younger, Rickon was only a baby. Robb and Jon were older. Jon was my half brother, but he was my favourite, it was he who gave me Needle.”

“Where are they all now?”

“Dead. Bran and Rickon were murdered by Theon Greyjoy, my fathers ward. My brother Robb became the King in the North after Joffrey killed my father. He was going to a wedding at the Twins, our uncles wedding. The Freys… Walder he… he betrayed Robb and murdered him. And my mother.” She had to stop. The memory she had most been trying to suppress most from her past had been brought forth. The sight of her brothers corpse after the Freys had desecrated it, the way they had sewn Greywind’s head onto Robb’s body. How they had thrown her mother’s body into the Trident.

“I heard, about the Red Wedding, it was an unforgivable crime. I promise you, the Freys will not go unpunished.” The Queen reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry for what happened to them. What about your other brother, your half brother. Do you know what became of him?”

“He joined the Nights Watch. He’s dead too, I think.”

“You think?”

“I dreamt it. I dreamt his wolf was crying out.” It could have meant anything, it could have meant nothing. But deep down Arya had always known that it meant Jon was dead.

“You dreamt it?” Daenerys furrowed her brows in confusion.

“What about you?” Arya dodged the question, she was not keen on explaining her strange wolf dreams to this woman. “I didn’t know you were alive until I went to Braavos. Were you the only one to escape the Rebellion?”

The Queen visibly tended at the question and Arya realised suddenly just what she had asked. She went to apologise but the Queen cut her off. “No, I was only a baby when I left Westeros, my brother Viserys came with me. He died too.”

“How?”

“My first husband killed him.” Daenerys gave a small smile at the look on Aryas face. “Don’t worry, Viserys has it coming to him. He was mad. My brother sold me, he would have happily killed me if it had gotten him the throne. And if Lord Tyrion is to be believed my nephew Aegon also survived. But don’t try distracting me, you have not finished your story.”

Arya would have preferred to hear more about Daenerys, but she did not want to provoke her. “After father was executed I travelled with a man bringing Nights Watch recruits to the North. Then we had to run from the Lannister’s and tried to make our own way until the Lannister’s eventually caught us and held us- me and two of my friends, Gendry and Hotpie- prisoners at Harrenhal. We escaped there but then the Brotherhood without Banners. They would have taken me to Riverrun, but a man called the Hound took me. He was injured in a fight so I left him and rode to Saltpans. I had meant to sail North, but the ship would only go to Braavos. So I sailed there instead and went to the house of Black and White to join the faceless men. The rest you know.”

“Why The House of Black and White? All of Braavos and you chose that place, why?”

“There was a man named Jaquen H’gar being taken to the Wall when I travelled with the Nights Watch. When we were attacked I freed him and the two others he was with. He told me I had stolen from the Red God, that I owed a debt of three lives, and that all I had to do was speak three names, any three names, and Jaquen would kill them. That’s how I escaped. That’s why I chose the faceless men, I wanted to learn how to do what he could do. How to _kill_like he could.”

The Queen was clearly disturbed by the last part. “So that’s where you learned how to fight?”

“Partly. My father found me lessons with a Bravosi water dancer in Kingslanding, and I learnt something’s while I travelled. But I learned a lot in Braavos too.” The memory of Syrio’s fate made her blood boil.

“How long did you live in Kingslanding for? Ser Barristan told me about what happened to your father, he said Lord Eddard was a good man.”

“He was. And he was never a traitor, Joffrey lied. I did not live there long, less than a year I think.”

“So you knew the usurper?” Arya saw the way Daenerys was looking at her, like this was all she really cared about knowing.

“Yes.”

“What was he like?”

“Fat.” In the heat of the moment, Arya forgot everything she knew or had observed about King Robert other than the first impression she had had of him in Winterfell. “He _was_ very fat.”

Daenerys’ face froze momentarily, and then it cracked into a wide smile and she laughed. It was a sweet sound and reminded Arya slightly of her sister, Sansa, though Sansa rarely laughed so happily in Arya’s presence other than when she was mocking her.

“Forgive me,” the Queen choked out after a moment “It isn’t funny.”

With that Arya found herself now breaking down into fits of laughter as she remembered how drunk King Robert had always been and the way he would sway as he walked.

They were interrupted from their merriment by a nock at the door, followed by Ser Barristan’s entrance.

“Forgive me your grace, he said he would not wait any longer.” The Queensguard seemed out of breath and had the look of someone who was about to lose their patience.

“Your grace,” a man clearly dressed in the grey robes and metal chain of a maester entered the Queens solar and took a deep bow, “my name is Marwyn. I have come here from Oldtown both to teach you in the ways of Westeros and to deliver a letter.”

“A letter.” Daenerys had not yet fully recovered from laughing and was suddenly very confused. “Wh- from who?”

“I think it’s best you read it and find out.” Maester Marwyn he’s out the letter. Daenerys took it slightly suspiciously.

Arya watched intently as the Queen read her letter. Arya noticed the way she still mouthed the words slightly as she read them. _She did not grow up in a Castle like you did, fool. She lived in the Free Cities with her brother and Gods only know what he put her through. “He would have killed me for that throne.” Her family should not have treated her like that._

Arya suddenly realised that she was becoming very fond of Daenerys Targaryen, and when she heard the Queen’s breath hitch and saw the tears begin to spill down her cheeks she felt the urge to help, to hold her hand the way her sister used to hold Jeyne Poole’s hand when the girl had been upset. She did not though, she was still new to this place and to the woman, she had no wish to push her luck.

“Is this real? If your are lying to me I swear,” Daenerys stood up and walked towards the Maester, “this is not a thing I will forgive.”

“Have no fear, Khaleesi, this is no trick. The old maester stopped in Braavos ok his way to Oldtown, the steward he brought with him wrote his words down for him and gave the letter to us.”

“Is he..”

“Yes, he died on the journey. It was only to be expected, he was 102 years old and embarking on a journey by boat halfway around the world. He died on the way across the Narrow Sea.”

“Which fool had the idea of sending a 102 year old man on from the Wall to Oldtown by boat? They must have know he would not have survived.” Arya saw tears beginning to form in the Queens eyes.

“I’m sure the Lord Commander explained that he had his reasons, you of all must understand the threat that Stannis Baratheon poses.” The maester tried to comfort Daenerys. _“The Lord Commander”? _Arya realises what the man had said. _The journey from the Wall to Oldtown is long, and from Oldtown to Meereen linger still, Jon could well have still been the Lord Commander then. _

“Well when I return to Westeros I should like to speak with this, _Lord Commander Snow, _and ask him what exa-”

“Snow?” Arya interrupted suddenly. “Is it definitely Lord Commander _Snow_?”

Daenerys gave her a look of confusion and warning. “Yes, that’s what it says. Why?”

Arya looked to the maester. “The Lord Commander, do you know his name?”

“Probably.” The maester frowned at her.

“Jon Snow?” Arya asked with rising hope.

“That sounds right, the Steward Samwell Tarly said the lad was Lord Starks bastard. Why does it matter?”

“Your brother?” Daenerys realised suddenly what Arya already knew. “I thought you said he was dead, and you never told me he was the Lord Commander?”

“He is dead, but it’s a long journey, anything could have happened in the meantime. May I ask, who is the letter from?” Arya asked.

“My… great, great uncle, Aemon Targaryen. He was the maester at Castle Black.”

“Does the letter not say why he left the Wall? Why Jon sent him away?”

Daenerys scoffed and lifted the parchment up. “_“Lord Stannis Baratheon, whom I am sure you know is styling himself king, is currently using the wall as his own base and has left at Castle Black a woman named Melisandre. She is a Red Priestess from Asshai and the Lord Commander fears her desire for kings blood. She claims there is magic in it and a sacrifice of kings blood will bring good fortune upon Stannis, so the Lord Commander has sent me to Oldtown that she might never be able to use my blood for her magic.”_ I know the Red Priests have a love for fire, but surely none would be so fanatical as to have an old blind man burnt alive as sacrifice?”

“I would not be so sure your Grace.” The maester reinserted himself into the conversation. “It is said that Lord Stannis and his Red Witch have ventured deep into the black arts, it is even rumoured he used such practices to murder his brother Renly, there is no telling what may have happened to maester Aemon if he had stayed at the Wall.” Daenerys thought on that as the maester continued. “If you don’t mind my asking your grace, I have wondered if it would even be possible to do such things to the old man, burning I mean. Even in Oldtown, we have heard rumours of your abilities.”

Arya had heard these rumours too. They had been as common as all the other rumours had been, the ones about the Queens punishments which Arya now believed to be untrue.

In response to Marwyn’s question, Daenerys stood from her seat and walked to the brazier that the maester was standing beside. Both Marwyn and Arya now watched in part horror part admiration, as the queen reached out and wrapped her hand around a flaming coal from within the fire and pull it out to show them. As she dropped the coal back into the fire, Arya saw the Queens mouth twist upwards into a smile. _Fire cannot kill a Dragon. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I’ve had written out pre- posting so it’ll take me a while to write the next few and I will try to keep posting weekly but I can’t make any promises.  
Let me know what you think of chapter 9 :)


	10. All The Good Lords Are Dead

-DAVOS-

Seeing the port city’s white walls after the weeks and months Davos had spent at sea and on Skagos was almost enough to reduce him to tears. White Harbor was much quieter than it had been when they had left, and a thick layer of snow covering the city and all that surrounded it made the place seem to glow an even brighter white.

They were greeted by a secret party of Lord Wyman’s at the harbor and taken down a hidden alley towards an inn. They had to leave the wolf on the boat for obvious reasons but would return for it as soon as they could.

When they finally reached the inn they were taken to an upstairs room and told to wait quietly until the Manderly’s arrived. Rickon, of course, found this task somewhat harder than everyone else.

“When can we bring Shaggy out?” He asked for the fifth time. “He doesn’t like being locked up.”

“I know m’lord, but we can’t bring a giant direwolf through the streets of white harbor in broad daylight. It’d raise too many questions, and besides, by the sounds of it your wolf would probably end up eating half the people he saw.” Davos explained once more.

“He would not!” Rickon replied, indignantly. “He only eats people who threaten me!”

“Shh, can you two keep it down?” Rennock hissed from where he sat slouched against the wall. “The rooms here don’t have much to separate them and I don’t think you want these folk hearing you’s.”

“No, you’re right we don’t.”

Davos felt a great deal of guilt for what had befallen his guide and companion. The bite he had taken to the arm had not been properly cleaned or taken care of and it was making the man slower in body and mind. _I will take him to the maester soon as Lord Manderly arrives. _

That was when they heard the door open, but it was not Lord Wyman that entered by his daughter, the one with the green hair. She had the boy with her, Wex, the one who had told them all of Bran and Rickon’s survival.

“Who are you?” Rickon demanded the second they stepped through the door.

“I am Wylla Manderly,” Lady Wylla turned to Wex “is that him?”

The boy stepped forwards to get a closer look at Rickon. Davos considered telling them that this child was unmistakably Rickon Stark and the wolf on the boat was more than enough proof of that. _They won’t listen, these high Lords and Lady’s won’t believe a word that comes out of another souls mouth, not unless they own that mouth. _

Wex turned back to Wylla and nodded. “I know you!” Rickon piped up again. “You were with Theon! You were his squire, how did you escape?”

“He hid,” Wylla answered for the mute “in the heart tree at Winterfell, that is how he saw you and your brother Bran had survived.”

“My lady,” Davos interrupted before Rickon could say any more “my guide and companion, Rennock, suffered serious injury during our time in Skagos. He will need to see a maester.”

Lady Wylla looked to the man on the floor and scowled. “What happened to you Ser?” She asked.

“The lads wolf took a chunk out o’ ma shoulder.” The Crowl growled.

“I should like to meet this wolf,” lady Wylla smirked “but in the meantime I’m sure Lord Davos will not object to taking you to see are maester.” She turned now to Davos “I believe you know the way.”

It was a clear dismissal, but Davos was not sure how he felt about leaving. The girl seemed loyal enough to the Starks, but she owed no allegiance to either Stannis or Davos. “I’d tear her stay with the boy, if that’s all well with you my lady.”

She scowled again “I’ll do no harm to him, my grandfather wants him protected at all costs. You needn’t be suspicious of us Lord Davos, whatever ill we think of Stannis, we think far worse of the Bolton. But if it will ease your mind, we can all travel to the Wolf’s Den together.” Wylla saw the look of confusion on Davos face. “My sister and I thought it wise not to meet in New Caste where all could see. Besides, where else would we hide a wolf but in the Wolf’s Den?”

Davos smiled at that, reassured slightly by the girls words. “Thank you my lady.”

Once they had collected Shaggydog from the boat and arrived in the wolf’s den and sent Rennock to the maester, the real business began.

“My father has received word from his father, Lord Wyman,” Wylla began “grandfather has been sent by Roose Bolton to confront the Lord Stannis along with the Freys. Grandfather shan’t next doing that. He will turn on the Freys as soon as they reach Stannis and explain to the King what good work you, Lord Davos, have been doing for us.”

“And the lad,” Davos asked, the wolf growled slightly from his seat at the back of the cell “where will he go now?”

“We’re sending the both of you to the Nightfort. That is where Queen Selyse and the Princess Shireen will be, am I correct?”

“That you are, my lady.”

“Well then,” Wylla stood to leave “you ride at dawn. I do not trust Eastwatch so you must ride all the way. I will have provisions readied for you. Until then, make as little noise as possible.” Then she bowed. “Welcome home, your grace. The North Remembers.”

-ASHA III-

_I’ll have to leave the girl. There’s no other way. _Asha had been thinking of every possible option since the former Lord Commander had left the Wall. Some members of the Watch and the Queensmen suggested Queen Selyse should send men to find him, but they were swiftly overruled by the wildling Val and Selyse agreed to leave the boy alone.

Asha knew now that part of the reason they let the boy go so easily was that Selyse felt vulnerable at Castle Black now that her _Red Woman _was gone, and was loath to part with any of her knights. She had never said as much, but Asha could tell from how she her daughter close by her at all times, and was never seen less that ten guards at her side. She kept Jeyne close to her as well, and far away from Asha. The Greyjoy knew that it had been Jon Snow who had kept them at the Wall, the rest of the Watch were likely to sell them out to the Bolton’s the first chance they got, and Asha had heard all about this _“pink letter” _the Bastard of Bolton had sent.

The increased security around Jeyne, along with the constant prying eyes of the the black brothers, Queensmen, and wildlings, was making any chance of Asha taking Jeyne away impossible. Escaping on her own would be child’s play in comparison, all she need do was wait for Theon, steal some horses and ride as hard and as fast as they could for as long as they could. Once they reached the Stony Shore they would find a boat and sail straight back to the Iron Islands.

Asha had been planning this for weeks. She had stolen food and supplies every chance she got, this included occasionally taking dirks and daggers from unassuming guardsmen. If her and Theon were to get away without anyone knowing they could be beyond Stannis’ grasp in no time and Selyse would be powerless to stop them.

She was still pacing her room, thinking of all the things they would have to do once they got back home, when a nick came at the door.

“Come in.” She called.

“M’lady,” a short man dressed all in black stood at the door, he was one of the men in charge of keeping her in her room “Queen Selyse has requested a meeting with you.”

“Well let’s not keep her waiting.” Asha stood and exited the room.

She was surprised when she arrived in the Queens rooms, to find no trace of either the Princess Shireen or Jeyne.

“Your grace,” Asha gave a small, slightly ironic, bow “you asked to see me?”

“I did,” Selyse replied, curt as usual “I have some questions for you.”

Asha felt her heartbeat quicken. “By all means, ask away.”

“When you arrived you told me that Stannis was alive, that he was camped at a Crofters village waiting before he could make his move on the Bolton’s, that is correct?” Selyse asked.

“Aye, but I haven’t a clue what happened next.”

Selyse pulled a letter from her pocket, a pink letter. “This was sent to us, from Ramsey Snow. It was sent to the Lord commander, his response to it was what got him killed. It states that the Bolton’s army has already defeated Stannis, can you explain to me why I have two different reports of my husbands current whereabouts.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“If I believe you, then god letter is a lie likely intended to bring me and my daughter to Winterfell so that Roose Bolton can draw Stannis out into the open. If I believe the letter, then you could well have been sent here by the Bolton’s to deliver myself and my daughter to Winterfell to be executed.”

“Why would I do that?” Asha snapped. “I don’t owe the Bolton’s anything, Ramsey snow tortured my little brother for months. I am the last person in Westeros who would ever give them help with anything. And surely the men escorting us to you were proof enough that Stannis sent us.”

“Even if I believed you about your brother, how do I know you aren’t here for some deal with the Bolton’s to release him. And I do not recognise your men, they aren’t my husbands knights, they could be anyone dressed in Baratheon armour.”

“But the aren’t,” Asha sighed “they’re Stannis’ men, he sent me and Arya here, he is still alive and he will attack the Bolton’s when the snows clear.”

“Why is it that Arya Stark seems to be a mute?” Selyse asked finally, giving her usual cold stare, Asha had known she would have to answer that question soon enough, Jeyne’s ability to cope with others had not improved since they arrived at the Wall. “I would assume the daughter of a Lord would know how to correctly converse with others, but this girl seems incapable of speaking freely with anyone other than my daughter Shireen.”

“You know who she was married too, Bolton’s Bastard did unspeakable things to that girl.” It was the most believable response. “She suffered more than anyone her age should have, its understandable that she’s not the most talkative.”

“That is understandable I suppose.” Selyse allowed. “But why then, has Jon Snow left his beloved little sister at the Wall while he rides off to Lord only knows where.”

“I can’t speak for the lads actions, you’d best ask _Princess Val_ if you want to know his reasons.” Asha had developed a modicum of respect for the wildling woman during her time at the Wall. Selyse had wanted the Greyjoy as far away from _Arya _and Shireen as physically possible, so she had rooms prepared for Asha in Hardins Tower. This meant the three people she saw the most were Val and her nephew, Val had been sure to kept the babe close to her since the former Lord Commander left. The other person she saw was the wildling girl Ereine, the _warg _as Selyse would refer to her.

“But you understand I find it suspicious for a man to leave his half sister with a group of strangers after the hell she has been through?” Selyse was fiddling with the sleeve of her dress, pulling at a long thread as she spoke.

“Aye, I would,” Asha replied “had I not just left my own little brother with a man who is a stranger to him, after the hell that Ramsey Snow put him through. This is war, I have very little choice in what happens to me or Theon. Perhaps the Stark bastard felt the same, he was murdered here, I think anyone would understand why he would feel as if he cannot stay. And you wish to keep Arya close to you, as your husband wishes to keep Theon close to him. Neither Jon nor myself could take our siblings with us when we left. That is the way of war.”

Asha knee she had won the argument. Selyse had nothing more to say and dismissed her. _Little does the old crone know my brother shan’t be her husbands prisoner for much longer, he’s likely already on his way here. She can keep her “Stark girl” though, apparently only Jon Snow and my brother could tell her true identity, and the bastard hardly seems to care what happens with Jeyne. So let Stannis make her Lady of Winterfell, and mayhaps she’ll find some happiness once all this is done. _

When she approached Hardins Tower, she noticed two other sets of footprints in the snow leading up to the door. Asha checked her knife was still where she had hidden, it up her sleeve, a little trick she had learned from Ereine. She edged her way into the tower, stepping lightly so as not to let the stairs freak beneath her.

The door to her room was ajar. Inside she could not see anyone, but there was snow on the floor from a pair of boots, it could not have been there long else it would have melted. Asha braces herself and opened the door.

Inside stood Val, and Theon.

-VAL III-

Since Jon had left, Val had been granted more freedom around Castle Black. _Not so surprising really, it’s anyone’s guess that Jon offered to take me with him when he left, they know I chose to stay, they know I won’t leave now. _

Val used her freedom now. After giving the little monster over to the wetnurse, she wrapped herself in her cloak and braved herself as she opened the door and stepped out into the cold. She had no particular destination in mind, she simply wanted to walk on her own for a while.

After half an hour of wondering aimlessly around the Castle, thinking what was coming and wondering if the living could ever truly be ready for them, Val heard a familiar voice and followed it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the girl muttered “it’s not my fault, you know i’d move you somewhere else if I could.”

Val rounded the corner of the stables and came face to face with Ereine.

“Who are you talking to?” Val asked, folding her arms and leaning against the wall.

“Them of course.” The girl gestured into the stable, Val peered over to see the two shadowcats, Wraith and Shade, pacing around their lot. “They don’t like it in there. It’s too close to the boar.”

Boroq’s boar snorted from the lot next to the cats. “Ghost didn’t like the boar either, are there no other lots free?”

“No.” Ereine grumbled, kicking at the snow. “They’re all needed. But I don’t see why I can’t just keep ‘em with me. They wouldn’t cause no trouble, I can control ‘em well enough. Your _Queen_ said they only had to stay here cos the wolf didn’t like ‘em, the wolf’s gone now, why can’t I just let ‘em out? Your _Lord Commander _even gave me a Key!” She said, slightly mockingly as she held up the key.

“Because the southerners are scared of anything they don’t understand, and warning is hard to understand even for the free folk. So I’d hide that key for when it’s needed.” Val paused as the girl stayed silent. “I don’t claim to be an expert, but you must be a pretty strong warg; you’ve got two animals.”

Ereine hesitated a moment before speaking, keeping her eyes fixed on the cats, never looking Val in the eye. “They aren’t both mine.”

“What?”

“Wraith is mine,” she explained “Shade is my brother’s.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” The girl had never even mentioned her family before now, so Val had assumed they were dead.

“Aye, I had lots. Then Mance went to war.” The girl finally turned to face Val, holding her gaze and never once flinching. “I had sisters too. They went to attack the Wall, and they were cut down by your Southern King and his men. I would have been there with them, but they told me and Marick to stay back, to watch the bairns. We did that, and when the fighters came running and told us what had happened we fled to Hardhome.”

“How many survived.” Val asked quietly.

Ereine turned back to the cats. “Me.”

Val needed no further explanation, she left the girl to talk to her cats and made her way back towards Hardins. The Greyjoy woman was speaking to the Queen, she knew, so she would have the place to herself. _I wouldn’t mind the woman’s company, but I’ve heard all about her kind from Jon, and I’m not like to trust her any time soon. _

Suddenly, Val saw something that made her stop in her tracks. A man, limping out of the woods and quickly making his way towards Castle Black. When he reached the Castle he stayed close to the buildings, being careful to stay in the shadows. He was moving slowly towards Hardins Tower, but even at his speed he would still arrive there before Val, _the boy, _she thought desperately as she moved after the man, practically running.

She watched as he opened the door and entered, and though she was across the threshold mere moments later, the limping man was already on the stairs, she could hear. She ran after him and cornered him as they reached a bend, pinning him against a wall.

He was an old man, it seemed to Val, with hollow eyes, gaunt cheeks and very few teeth left. His hair was white and wispy.

“Who are you?” Val hissed.

“I-I.. no-n-n, no one.” He stuttered through his broken teeth. “I’m l-looking for l-l-lady Greyjoy.”

Something in Val’s mind finally tweaked and she realised. “You’re Asha’s brother, Theon.”

The man gulped and looked conflicted, she wasn’t sure if he would even answer, but he did. “Yes, I am Theon Greyjoy. Where is Asha?”

“With the Queen.” Val let go of him, he did not seem to be armed and he was hardly a threat to her. “Come, I’ll take you to her room.”

Val kicked her boots on the side of the door to shake off the snow as she entered Asha’s room. The woman was clearly still with the Queen, but Val had her own questions for Theon.

“Why are you here, I heard Stannis had you prisoner?” Val demanded, folding her arms.

“I’ll tell you that when you tell me who you are.” Theon replied. Val snorted, he was in no position to be making demands, mayhaps it’s only fair tho, I know his after all.

Val sighed impatiently. “I’m Val, my sister Dalla was Mance Raiders wife. Now tell me why you’re here.”

“I escaped from Stannis. He was going to execute me.” Theon replied.

He opened his mouth to say more, but Val silenced him. She heard the door opening below them. Listening intently she could only just make out the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Val was sure it was only Asha returning, though the Greyjoy woman was never normally so quiet.

The door opened, and Asha walked in. Val and Theon stood staring at her, suddenly speechless and frozen to the spot, but Asha did not hesitate. She ran at Val and pulled a knife from her sleeve, Val dodged to the side and pulled her own knife, which she had stolen from a guard a few days ago. The two woman stood staring at each other, Asha standing directly between Val and Theon.

“If you even think about telling anyone what you’ve seen I’ll cut your throat.” Asha hissed, taking a step forward.

“Oh please, do try, life at the Wall has been _so boring_.” Val smirked.

“Val, you’re a fair woman and I know you bear no love for Stannis,” Asha coaxed “put your knife down and help us out. They’ve given you freedom to roam the Castle now haven’t they? No one would stop you, all you need do is distract a Crow or two while we get the horses.”

Val snorted, but slowly she lowered her knife and, to her relief, Asha did the same. “I shan’t help you Greyjoy.” She shot Theon a look. After all she had heard of the man, she felt slightly disappointed. She had expected someone far more impressive, both physically and mentally, for this man looked as if he might crumble apart in a strong enough wind. To her own great surprise, Val found herself feeling pity for the man. “But I won’t stand in your way either. By the looks of it, he’s been punished enough for his crimes.”

It had not been said in a cruel way, but the words sent Asha into a rage. “And what crimes would those be? Loyalty to his house? Rescuing a friend from the Bolton’s?” Her knife was back in hand, so was Val’s.

“He may not have killed Jon’s brothers but he still betrayed his king.” Val retorted. “A man he swore himself to and a man who considered him a brother. Even beyond the Wall we value family, and loyalty to those who are loyal to us.”

Asha opened her mouth and began to lunge at Val, but Theon grabbed his sister by the arm and spun her around to face him. “She’s right, Asha.”

Asha looked stunned. “No, Theon…”

“I did deserve it, maybe not all of it, but most of it.” He turned and locked eyes with Val. “But I’ve pain for my crimes, and the Old Gods themselves agree.”

“If you won’t help us, but you won’t stop us, then I trust also that you won’t help Selyse come after us.” Asha asked, calming down slightly.

“No, I won’t.” Val shook her head.

“Good. This is farewell, _Princess Val_.” Asha gave a mocking bow.

“And you, _Lady Greyjoy_.” Val returned the bow and saw a small smirk spread across the other woman’s cheeks. “One thing you should know, before you go.”

“What’s that?” Asha asked, stopping by the door.

“The stables are locked, but all the lots use the same key.” Now it was Val’s turn to smirk. “The girl, Ereine, she has a key. She’ll give you it, _for a price. _So be ready to give her something when you get there.”

“We will.” The Greyjoy’s nodded, and then, silent as Theon had arrived, they were both gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I’m going to take a short break of a couple of weeks before I put out the next chapter, sorry this one is so late I just got really distracted and behind on writing . So This chapter is number ten so it’s the last one in this “block” of the plan which is why I’m taking a short break before publishing the next ones, so i should be back on time when I start posting 11 and 13 etc.
> 
> Pls let me know what you think :)


	11. The Only Thing I Ever Wanted

-JEYNE I-

“Are you sure?” The Queen asked.

“Yes your Grace, the rider arrived shortly before dawn, we came straight to you.”

“Very well, you may go.” The Queen turned to face Jeyne who had been listening intently. “Where is Shireen?”

“She is still asleep, your grace,” Jeyne told her, “I did not wish to disturb her.”

“My daughter has a right to know this,” Queen Selyse replied, not unkindly, she was never unkind to Jeyne, _she would be if she knew the truth though_, “go and wake her.”

Jeyne nodded and left the room. Since arriving at the Nightfort she had grown rather close to the Princess Shireen, she was a sweet girl, if a little bookish, but Jeyne was glad of the company of a girl closer to her age. Their arrival at their new home had been rather rushed, they had not intended to move for another few weeks, but when Asha ran and news from King Stannis camp told them Theon too had escaped Queen Selyse began to worry about the strength of the security around herself and her family at Castle Black, especially as it happened so soon after Jon’s disappearance.

Jeyne’s new closeness to Shireen was in part thanks to them sharing a room due to the lack of liveable space at the Nightfort. The wildling Princess, Val, was given the room beside theirs and Queen Selyse took the ones above them. At first Jeyne had feared what sharing a room with Shireen might entail, since her escape from Winterfell she had suffered from such nightmares, _I cannot control my mouth when I sleep, _she thought, _I may say things that she cannot be allowed to hear. _

Fortunately, Jeyne’s nightmares had affected her less and less since their arrival. And on the one occasion that she had woken from her dream drenched in sweat and unable to speak or breath, Shireen had woken from her own sleep and crawled into Jeyne’s bed to spend the rest of the night cuddle up with her, stopping her bad dream immediately. The act had brought Jeyne to silent tears, though she was sure not to let Shireen see, it had just remained Jeyne so of the time in Kingslanding when Sansa had comforted her over the death of her father. _I should not think of such things, the horrors of my past must stay in my past. _

She woke Shireen as gently as she could, rocking her slowly by the shoulders and speaking softly “Princess, you must wake up.”

“Why, what has happened.” Shireen opened her bleary eyes and lifted her face of off her pillow, exposing the cracked grey scar that covered her left cheek.

“It’s your father, a rider came this morning.”

“Is he alright?” At this news the little girl sat bolt up right and looked around the room for her mother.

“He’s fine, he’s begun his attack on Winterfell.” Jeyne smiled, though she wasn’t sure what there was to be so happy about, the battle was not won, the Bolton’s were still breathing and for all they knew Stannis could already be dead. “Your mother wishes us both to prepare, we are to have a bag with some warm clothes and food incase... incase the battle does not go our way and we must run.”

Shireen said nothing and nodded her head, but Jeyne could see tears beginning to well in the girls eyes. She reached out and took the girls hand, as Shireen looked up at her Jeyne saw that her tears were already falling, so she pulled the princess close and wrapped her arms tight around the girl as she began to sob.

“What is wrong, little one,” Jeyne asked as they both sat down on the bed, “tell me so I may help.”

“I-I,” Shireen sniffed before finally choking out, “I’m worried for my father. I do not want the battle to go wrong for him, I want him to be safe. But I know he needs Winterfell or none of us will ever be safe.”

“You father is a great fighter,” Jeyne had no idea whether this was true, but Stannis was a King, and kings should be good fighters, “and he has a loyal army that is growing bigger with every Norther house that joins them. And you are right, the Bolton’s, they stole Winterfell and you father is taking it back so we can all be safe.”

Shireen nodded and looked at the floor. “I know,” she mumbled, “I’m still worried for him though.”

Jeyne could understand that. She still remembered the fear and the pain she had felt when she lost her own father, how she had cried in Sansa’s arms while the fighting happened outside their room. She had wanted to look for Vayon, but the Lannister’s had taken her before she could. Sighing she closed her eyes, _that wasn’t you, that was Jeyne Poole, your name is Arya, Arya Stark. _But for some reason recently, maintaining that lie even within herself was growing harder and harder. Every time she told herself who she was it felt as if the real Arya Stark were watching her, knowing what she was doing, knowing that she was lying.

“I know you are.” She said at last. “But there’s nothing else we can do but prepare and pray. Now start packing before your mother comes to tell us off.”

Shireen smiled slightly and looked up at her.“Thank you.” The little girl said.

The older girl placed her hands on either side of the Princess’ face and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Go on.” She whispered.

Shireen ran back to her bed and began looking through boxes and opening chests to find things to pack. Jeyne turned and left the room, going to tell the Queen that her daughter was awake. 

* * *

-SANSA III-

_Winter is here. _The snows at the Gates of the Moon fell so deep now that it was almost impossible for and one to leave or enter the castle. Sansa did not mind the snows much, they were home for her, they gave her power in a place where she was powerless. _And I am powerless. _

Since little Roberts death Sansa’s position in the Vale has dropped exponentially. Her _“father” _Lord Baelish was still an established politician and Lord of Harrenhal besides, but Harrenhal was a ruined castle in a Kingdom they could no longer reach do to bad weather. In the Vale, Baelish had relied on Robert Arryn’s trust in him, and in the boys sickness. While Robert was a sickly child and easy to control, Baelish had not problem in becoming the regent and ruling the Vale as he saw fit. But now the Lord of the Vale was Harold Hardyng, and he was neither sickly nor a child, so he did not need a regent nor did he need Littlefinger’s advice.

At the start of Harolds rule, Baelish had been unperturbed by the new Lord of the Vale’s rejection, after all, making _Harry the heir_ Lord of the Vale had been his goal all along. _Everything he did, he did so Lord Hardyng could have the power, and the _I _could marry him and create a great Kingdom of the North and the Vale and probably the a Riverlands too for all I know. _Since the attack of Ser Shadrich, Sansa had, in her heart, lost all faith in Lord Baelish. This change of heart was heightened when Mya had told her… _he wanted a new Lord so badly, he had no faith in Robert. He had the maester put Sweetsleep in Roberts drinks. I should have listened to Robert, he _told me _his milk tasted strange. _

There was, however, one thing that brought Sansa joy, and that was to see the way Harold Hardyng refused to cooperate with Littlefinger’s plan. Before she learned the truth about Roberts death, Sansa had played her role as the dutiful daughter well, she had made every effort to speak to Lord Hardyng and be gracious and courteous, but right from the start, he had been blind toward Sansa’s advances. This, of course, was not part of Baelish’s plan. She had heard gossip from Myranda, that Littlefinger had grown so frustrated by this that he had attempted to have a conversation with Harold about his future marriage whether there were any women he might consider. To which Harold had told him that there were many fine _trueborn _women of noble birth in the Vale and he would take his time to chose one of them.

Harold may not have said it in so many words, but his message was clear, _“there is no was in all seven hells that I will ever marry your bastard daughter, Littlefinger, for I do not trust you and I do not trust her”. _Part of her felt offended, but Sansa knew this was the best option. If she had married Harold, she would still have been unable to escape Littlefinger and would have had to go through with his plan of uniting all the Kingdoms the Sansa had any direct blood ties to under her and Harolds reign, and then Sansa had no doubt that her poor husband would meet some tragic end and she would be forced to give her hand to the man who had created for her the life she lived, the life of a Queen. And thus Baelish would finally have what he craved above all else; power, over everyone and everything. _That will never happen. _

Even after the revelation that _Alaine Stone _was no option for Lord Harold Hardyng, Baelish’s plan may still have worked. They could have washed her hair out and made Sansa Stark of Winterfell a candidate for Harry’s hand, and she had no doubts in her mind that this was Baelish’s plan. But this too had to be stopped.

Baelish had come to see her one morning, shortly after she had learned the real cause of Roberts death. He told her that she must be extra careful now, that she could not slip up, not once. She had asked him why.

“Our new Lord of the Vale is proving rather more difficult than I had anticipated.” He had told her, sitting beside her on her bed and taking her hand. “There was a meeting, a council last night as you well know. At the meeting Lord Hardyng expresses a desire to secure and protect the Vale through Winter by going to Kingslanding, and bending the knee to King Tommen and Queen Margaery. He would side with them, somewhat begrudgingly I’ll give you, but he does not with to cause more conflict. With Stannis Baratheon attacking Winterfell as we speak, I can almost understand that, and it is true that the Vale could not remain neutral for ever.”

The information Sansa was interested in was skimmed over and hidden in Baelish speak, so she had had to ask him. “What did you say, a-about Stannis?”

“Ah,” Littlefinger smirked “I thought you might like that. Stannis has been camped at the Wall for some time now, I told you that, but he left the wall and began to gather an army of Northmen some time ago. We received a raven from Winterfell yesterday, it was discussed at length at the meeting. It said that Stannis was laying siege to Winterfell and was likely to be victorious. I believe it is his intention to place one of your siblings as Lord or Lady of Winterfell.”

“But all my siblings are dead, unless...” Sansa furrowed her brow, unsure of whether this was good news or not, “Arya! She was never _confirmed _to be dead she was just missing, everyone says she’s dead but she could be alive! She is alive, isn’t she?”

“From the sound of it, yes,” Baelish pulled another raven scroll from his pocket, “this came from my friend at Castle Black, I’m afraid it’s slightly confusing. It says your half- brother, Jon Snow, is alive- I know, I said he was dead and according to this _he was_, but he’s back now that’s all that matters. Shortly after his… resurrection, Asha Greyjoy arrived at the castle with your sister, who is now Arya _Bolton. _For she was married to Roose Bolton’s son, Ramsey. She ran from her husband and Stannis found her, sent her back to her brother. Unfortunately, it would appear whatever happened to your half brother gave him cause to abandon both his sister and his honour, he left the Watch, broke his vows and ran in the night.”

“But they are both alive,” Sansa breathed, she had not felt so happy in years. _They’re alive, my family is not all gone, _“who will Stannis make ruler of Winterfell then, Arya is a girl and a Bolton now, and Jon is a bastard?”

“Perhaps neither of them.” He held up yet another scroll, his grey eyes suddenly seeming full of anger and frustration, not joy for the survival of her family. “I received this from another source, it says that your youngest brother, Rickon, is not dead, and that he too is now travelling to the Wall, he will stay the Nightfort with Stannis Baratheon’s wife and daughter, along with your sister, until such a time as Stannis moves them.”

“But Rickon was dead, people saw his body and Bran’s hung from the walls of Winterfell!”

“Apparently not, this is all said in confidence Sansa I hope you know, but Theon Greyjoy did not murder your brothers. He could not find them so he murdered two peasant boys in their place and burnt the bodies so no one would know. Now while Rickon has been recovered, Brans location is still unknown.”

It had almost been too much for Sansa, she left Baelish seeking solitude and a reprieve from the mans schemes and wandering eyes. _They’re alive, all of them I know it I know they’re alive, even Bran. Winter is here now, _she could hear her fathers voice inside her head _you are a Stark of Winterfell, you know our words. When the White Winds blow, only the wolves will endure, the lack survives. _

Baelish had told her to keep these things to herself, she did not normally need telling to do this, she played her part well and she kept the mans secrets better than she had ever kept any of her own, but this was too much not to share. She practically ran through the hallways of the castle and did not stop to speak to anyone until she reached her destination. Sansa burst through the door of Mya’s room, practically ripping it off its hinges.

“Hey!” Mya shouted, she was sitting at her desk, a basin of water in front of her and a knife in her hand. Mya always kept her hair short, but Sansa had never seen her cut it before. “Careful, this is a sharp knife and I happen to be quite fond of my ears.”

“Sorry,” Sansa calmed down a little and shrunk back to close the door, gently this time, “I sit, I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Mya put her knife down and turned to give Sansa her full attention, leaving her hair only partly cut.

“I was speaking to Baelish,” Sansa began “he said Stannis Baratheon is attacking Winterfell. If he wins he will make one of my siblings Lord or Lady of Winterfell and warden of the North.”

“But, your siblings, I thought they had all died.” Mya stood and beckoned Sansa to sit down beside her on a pair of armchairs.

“I thought so too, everyone did,” it pained Sansa to think that she had given up on her family so easily, “but no one ever saw Arya die, they only assumed she had because she disappeared for so long, but now she’s at the Wall. She would be with Jon except he left, I’m not sure what’s happened with him but… he’s alive anyway that’s all that mattered.”

“So your younger sister, Arya, she’ll be made the Lady of Winterfell if your half brother is gone.” Mya leaned forward in her seat. “Won’t she?”

“I don’t know, because my younger brothers are alive as well!” Sansa beamed, unable to contain her joy any longer. “Theon did not kill them, they escaped him he lied! Rickon has been found and is being taken to the Wall! He’s only young I know, he must be five now I think, but he’s alive! And bran too, I know it, he’s still lost but of Arya was lost and returned to us then so can he!”

“I’m happy for you, I really am,” Mya hesitated, sucking in her breath, “but don’t forget, Stannis still has to win Winterfell. If he loses the Bolton’s will surely go to the Wall to kill the rest of his family and supporters, if they find your siblings…”

She did not need to say the rest, Rickon and Arya will be slaughtered. Bran and Jon too if they’re caught or found. She could not let that happen, I have been complacent in this war, I have been a pawn, a prize, a prisoner, no more. I will not let them die.

“I won’t let them die.” She said, aloud this time, then suddenly she stood. “I must speak with Lord Hardyng.”

Mya smiled, a broad, proud smile that gave Sansa the confidence she needed. “Well let’s go then.”

It did not take them long to locate Lord Hardyng, he was breaking his fast alone in his chambers, just like always. He admitted them entry but looked rather perturbed to have his meal interrupted by two bastard girls.

“Ah, the Stones,” he said after taking a long drink of his water and sitting back in his chair, “what have you to tell me that is so urgent you must interrupt my breakfast.”

“Forgive us, my Lord,” Sansa bowed her head and curtsied slightly, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that Mya only nodded her head to the man, “but I must speak to you about my Lord father, Petyr Baelish.”

Harold glanced from Sansa to Mya, then nodded his head. “Very well, take a seat Alaine, but I’m afraid miss Mya must wait outside.”

Sansa looked at Mya, half expecting her to object, but she simply nodded her head again and left the room without saying a thing. Sansa took a deep breath and sat down in the chair opposite Lord Hardyng.

“Forgive me,” she began, “I know far more about what is happening here than I should but Lord Baelish tells me practically everything, I think. It is hard to tell. But I know that you wish to go to Kingslanding, or send them word at least, that you will bend the knee to King Tommen and pledge the Eyrie to his cause.”

“That I do,” he nodded, unsmiling, “but I don’t see how that is any concern of yours.”

“It isn’t, but I should tell you that that would in neither yours nor the Vales best interest.” Harold squinted his eyes at her and lent forwards, his elbows on the arms of his seat. “Tommen is far better than Joffrey that much is true, but he is also not yet ten years old, he is a puppet to his mother. Cersei may be a prisoner of the faith militant but I hear she is staying in the Red Keep until her trial and is allowed to see her son, and let us not forget that both Kevan Lannister and Grand Maester Pycelle were murdered, leaving Cersei as Tommen’s most trusted advisor. If you bend the knee to Tommen you will be pledging the Vale to Cersei, and that is not your best option.”

“And what is my best option,” Harold squinted his eyes at her and smirked, “in your, _experienced _opinion?”

“Siding with the Lannister’s will mean death. War is coming, I know it is.”

“The war is over!”

“Not so long as Stannis lives!” Sana’a was slightly shocked to hear herself raise her voice. “Stannis is attacking the Bolton’s at Winterfell as we speak, if he wins he will place a Stark in charge of the North you know that. But know this also, the North remembers, it will not stand for the Bolton’s rule not after what Roose did to my brother, he is a murderer and an oathbreaker.”

Harolds face went blank, and suddenly, Sansa realised what she had said.

“Your brother?” He asked quietly. “I was under the impression you were Lord Baelish’s only child. Or was he lying to me.”

Sansa did not answer, she froze, _no! There’s still more I have to say!_

“Well?” Harold’s voice was louder now, his tone impatient. “What is the truth of this, why should the North care about your brother of you ever had…”

The look on his face changed, Sansa knew it was too late, he would figure it out anyway. “I had lots of brothers once, and each of their deaths brought great pain to the North. Lord Baelish did lie, as did I. He is not my father, I am not Alaine Stone, my name is Sansa, Sansa Stark. And if you value the safety of the Vale at all you should listen to me now.”

Harry looked stunned, he did not say anything, he simply squinted at her face and after what felt like a lifetime he nodded for her to continue.

“Side with Stannis, help him and others will follow, if he retakes Winterfell he will give it to a Stark, that Stark could be me. If he cannot retake Winterfell than my sister Arya and my brother Rickon who are both with Stannis’ family at the Wall,” She did not mention the Rickon was still travelling there incase it ruined her plight, “will both be captured and killed in earnest this time. I will not let that happen. I ask if you now, that you simply delay from declaring for any side and allow me to write to my siblings at the Wall, let me tell them I am alive and, if it is agreeable with you, offer them my support and safety here if they should need it.”

“So you want me to side with your family, and to side with Stannis who was publicly defeated and shamed by the Lannister’s, by your husband!” He scoffed slightly. “But you’re right.” Something in his voice changed now. “The Lannister’s can’t be trusted, and even if Stannis does not deafest them there is another who might.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to look Sansa in the eyes. “You may write your siblings, tell them they will be safe here should they wish to come, but I will not side with Stannis because you are right, war is coming. And such a war it will be that no living Westerosi has ever seen before, a war that has not existed in this land for over a hundred years. When it comes, I would like the Vale to be on the winning side. Stannis may wish to win the North with one of your siblings, but as the eldest living trueborn Stark, I think Winterfell should be yours. The Vale will support your claim should you wish to push it.”

“I have three living brothers, I will not go to war with them.”

“I will think on it, but I will ask you one thing in return for allowing you to contact your family and offer to let them stay here.” Harry sat back in his chair and smiled.

“What is that?” Sansa’a felt her heart drop slightly.

“You must stay here in the vale.” He smiled at her, it was not an unkind smile but in unnerved her all the same. “You are a very valuable person, I cannot risk you falling into Cersei’s hands. And who knows what might happen if tried to cross the Mountains of the Moon by yourself in Winter, but safe to say I do not think it would be entirely safe for you.

“I understand.” She dropped her gaze to the table,

“Your family will understand this too when you write them, I am sure.” Harry said. “And Lord Baelish will not be a problem for us? Only we both know what sort of a man he is, I don’t believe he would approve of your decision here.”

“He won’t be a problem, and if he is… I am sure I will agree with whatever action you feel necessary. One more thing I must ask.” Sansa said. Harry nodded for her to continue. “You said _“such a war as no living person is Westeros has ever seen” _what did you mean by that, and how do you know the winning side of it has not happened yet?”

Harry smirked. “I know the winning side because it is obvious, no one can beat her. Tell me, my Lady, what do you know of Daenerys Targaryen?”

-DAENERYS-

Dany had always loved ships. As a child she had once wished to become a sailor; Viserys showed her the era of her judgment though, so she had abandoned that dream. She still loved ships though.

They had been at sea for little over a month, and they were now only a few weeks sail away from Dragonstone, _my birthplace_, Dany thought, slightly bitterly, as she remembered what the usurpers brother had done to her and her own brother. _Stannis is still alive. I may have missed the usurpers demise, but I swear by all the gods I will be personally responsible for that of his brothers. _Daenerys always tried hard to be a good ruler, merciful. She had pardoned those members of the Sons of the Harpy who had repented and given her information, but when someone purposely and specifically targeted and attacked her, that was something she could not forgive.

In Meereen, she had ruled there for barely a week after her return, but she had found that week to be far more productive than the entirety of her reign before that. She had found the sons of the Harpy. They were, as she suspected, the former Meereenees slave owners. What she had not foreseen however, was their leader. It was the Green Grace. Galazza Galare was revealed to be the Harpy by Daenerys new friend and attempted assassin Arya Stark. The girl had not taken long to survey and assess the political scene in Meereen and came to Daenerys after little over two days of investigating to give her a name. She overheard the Grace in the temple talking about Hizdahr and other small pieces of court gossip had led to the conclusion.

Upon hearing this information Daenerys called the Grace to her solar and spoke with her personally. It was not a long conversation. Afterward the Queen was fully satisfied that she had the true Harpy, but she could not have the woman executed, much as she would have liked to, for the Grace was one of the most prominent figures in the Ghiscari religion. To kill the Grace would be to declare open war upon the faith which was the last thing Daenerys wanted. Instead, she had the woman stripped of her title and position, publicly on the grounds of treason, and sentenced her to spend the rest of her life in exile. It gave Daenerys a strange feeling to sentence the woman to the same thing she herself had been subjected too, and a part of her feared the graces return, but the grace was almost 90 years old, gods or no gods there was no guarantee she would survive long outside the city. The people and her followers knew this of course, but given their new pardons and the giant Dothraki hoard at the gates they were in no position to argue with Daenerys.

She had left a council to rule after she left, it was comprised of mostly freedmen but also several of the great houses who had not been involved with the harpy or had repented upon her return. She had left also her sellswords companies and Daario with them. Their job was to keep the peace within Meereen along with the Mothers Men and her other new groups. Dany had to make sacrifices of course when it came to leaving people in Meereen. She had wanted to leave Ser Barristan behind for she trusted his judgement most of all when it came to ruling the city, but in the end she decided he would be of better use to her in Westeros, he was after all a living legend and extremely popular, and Dany needed his popularity and his knowledge in this. She had left instead Ser Jorah Mormont. Everyone always said to keep your friends close and you enemies close, but Jorah was neither of those, and Daenerys could not stand the sight of him, so she left him on her council.

Her Husband, Hizdahr zo Loraq she judged guilty of attempt on her life via the poisoned locusts and was left no choice but to execute him; she gave him to Drogon. Safe to say the black dragon found him far more enjoyable than dany ever had.

The loss that Daenerys felt most dearly was that of her scribe, Missandei. She had lived the little girl dearly and leaving her in Meereen had not been her first choice, but Ser Barristan told her of Missandei’s intelligence and how well the girl had listen during meetings, she would be of great use in Meereen. Dany also knew that going to Westeros would mean going to war, and while she had been at war with Missandei with her before she knew this would be different. The battles would be bloody and viscous and dany had every intention of fighting with her soldiers, but she would not put this life upon Missandei.

To ensure that Meereen and the other slave cities did not rebel or return to their old ways Daenerys left a portion of her Khalasar behind. After she burnt their Khal’s and was named Khal of Khals her Khalasar numbered around 100,000, she did not need all 100,000 to conquer Westeros especially if what Tyrion Lannister had told her about nephew was true. She had take most of the Dothraki, but some she left behind with her bloodrider, Jhogo, and sent them to protect the settlements around her city and to ensure it did not return to its old ways.

When her ships were due to set sail they were joined by another fleet, the Iron Fleet. Victarion Greyjoy returned in all his pomp and importance, demanding of course that Daenerys marry him. It took all her patience for Dany to have to explain to him that she could not marry him while her nephew lived, that it was her duty to marry Aegon and she would not marry another before she had even met the man. When, once again, Victarion threatened to simply carry her off himself and marry her she explained to him that she had an incredibly large army that would not let that happen, and if he tried anything her dragons would eat him alive. After that he agreed, reluctantly, to join their fleet and use his boats to help transport her armies to Westeros.

They had all agreed that three ships should be cleared of all people attached to another ship by chains, these three would act as perches for the dragons. Rhaegal and Viserion has grown in her absence, but their time in captivity made them still not as large as Drogon was now, for Drogon was now so large part of Daenerys feared he would not fit on his ship. Fortunately her worries were unfounded. There were worries that the dragons would burn their boats, but dragons are intelligent creatures, of they burnt the boats they would have no where to rest over the water, and not even dragons could fly the entire way from Meereen to Dragonstone without stopping to sleep.

Daenerys had always known that the first place she had to land on Westeros was her birthplace, Dragonstone. Reclaiming it would mean a lot for her both personally and politically, it would destabilise Stannis which she greatly wished to do, and announce her arrival and the return of the dragons.

Dragonstone was still a week or two sail if they were fast, but the size of the fleet slowed them so it would take longer. The size of the fleet had been a cause for concern to many sailors, it was good for the invasion to have a large force, but transporting such a large force was problematic. If there was a storm many ships would be lost, they were easy to spot due to their size and no one truly trusted the Ironborn not to turn on them. Truthfully though, Dany was not so concerned with any of these things as most people were. She had her dragons to protect them against attacks from within and without, a storm was not something she could control but they were now passed Autumn and the worst of its storms, so she would not worry about what she could not control. The time it would take to arrive might make others impatient, but Daenerys had been waiting for this all her life, she could wait a little longer. Besides, she loved being at sea.

This journey felt even better than the ones before it. Dany decided to use her time at sea wisely, so she split her time between training with Arya and Ser Barristan, and learning about the history and politics of the seven kingdoms with Tyrion. The dwarf was often rude and had barely one kind word to say about anyone in Westeros, but he was exceptional clever and able to help Daenerys learn about her ancestors and the more recent conflicts. She now knew of the causes of Roberts Rebellion and the origins of the war of the five kings. So despite her families conflict with the Starks in the past, she was sure she could win the North to her side, especially with Arya.

Arya often joined her in her lessons, the girl was incredibly bright and often knew things Tyrion did not. She had been sharing parts of her tale with the two of them, Tyrion asked her once, “one thing I have always wanted to know, how did you escape Kingslanding? My family and most other people in Westeros thought you dead for sure.”

“I guessed,” Arya responded, she always seemed unsure of the Lannister man, “a man from the Nights Watch found me in the crowd when my father was killed, he cut my hair and disguised me as a boy so he could take me back North.”

“But you never got to the North did you?” Tyrion asked.

“No, _your men_ attacked us and took us to Harrenhal.” Arya smirked. “Did you hear what happened there? How the Lannister’s were beaten by the Northern prisoners within the Castle? I was the one who freed them. Then I ran away.”

“Why? They were your brothers bannermen, they could have taken you to him?” Tyrion looked as if he had been struck.

“I didn’t know who to trust, Lord Bolton took charge and I didn’t like the look of him.”

The two had many such discussions, the one that Daenerys found the most interesting however was the one she was hearing currently.

“I heard that it was you that killed Joffrey, you and Sansa, is that true?” Arya asked.

Tyrion sighed. “Sadly not, but don’t tell my family, they truly believe it was me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What about Sansa though, did she have anything to do with it?” Arya asked again, Dany had learned about all of Aryas siblings and she claimed that Sansa was the one she liked the least, but that did not stop her worrying about her sister constantly.

“Not that I know of, all I know is that she ran from the wedding, but I did not see it.” Tyrion shook his head and hesitated slightly. “You are aware, I assume, that Sansa and I are married. Or, we were, it was never annulled but it wasn’t a.. full, marriage if you’re concerned about that.”

“I heard it, I didn’t believe it.” Arya admitted

“Why?”

“Because Sansa would never agree to marry someone like you.” Arya rolled her eyes.

“That’s true enough.” Tyrion laughed. “It was not either of our choices.”

“Much as I hate to interrupt,” Daenerys said, “but is Aryas sister not the heir to the North now?”

“One would assume.” Tyrion muttered.

“And marrying her to you was clearly meant as some sort of punishment?”

“How kind of you to say.” Tyrion swirled his cup.

“We’ll surely there were Lannister’s closer to her own age she could have married? But they gave her to you, so one day the two of you would inherit Winterfell and the North would belong to the Lannister’s.” Daenerys said.

“That was my fathers plan, there were other Lannister’s but Lancel is a prick and he would not have been kind to Sansa so I agreed to it. The whole thing would not have happened so soon however if it weren’t for the Tyrell’s. Margaery became quite friendly with Sansa and asked if Sansa would marry her leaders brother Willas, that would give the North to the Tyrell’s and father could not allow that.”

“I see.” Dany frowned. “Is it possible then that Sansa went back to the North? She could be ruling there now could she not?”

“No,” Arya said, “we would know if she was, _I _would know.”

Dany would have asked more but a nick on the door halted their conversation. 

“Your grace, my lady.” Barristan bowed. “It is time for your training, if you’re ready.”

“Of course.” The two girls stood, Arya grumbling slightly at being called _my lady, _“Lord Tyrion, we will speak again soon.”

Trying raised his glass to them and picked up a book.

The deck of Dany’s ship was wide and full of unsullied and some of the pit fighters Barristan had been training into knights. One boy, barely older than Daenerys came running up to them and threw a practice sword to Arya.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked in a barely understandable accent. “I’ve been waitin’ half a morning for you.”

“I got distracted is all.” Arya whacked at him with her sword. “Surely there was someone else for you to fight with.”

The boy shrugged. “They all speak strange.”

“They don’t speak the common tongue,” Arya rolled her eyes, “that doesn’t mean they speak strange.”

Daenerys watched them walk off and begin their match, she remembered when they had first met the boy. Dany had taken Arya to where all the pit fighters stayed, she needed to give them all the option of staying in Meereen as freemen or coming with her to Westeros, and Arya needed people to train with before they left. The unsullied had been good fighters and their styles of fighting were similar, but they worked better as an army than as individual warriors, so Arya wanted to train with a pit fighter.

They had barely entered the arena when Aryas head whipped around to face the boy and he had done the same, “Warg!” He shouted and the two of them ran at each other. It had taken strong Belwas getting in between them to prevent them from fighting. Dany had questioned them both and the boys story angered her beyond words. He was a wildling from beyond the wall, he’d been hiding in a place called Hardhome when slave ships came from Essos and promised food and gold to whoever came with them. They had all been starving, so Marick and his younger brother went with them, giving the payment they received to their sister and youngest brothers. Once out of sight of land, the slavers had put all the wildlings in chains and began to decide where to send them, Marick and his brother were sent to the pits because they could fight, but once there his brother caught the bloody flux and died.

Given their first meeting, Dany did not expect Arya to get along at all well with him, but they had. Aryas brother, the one who had been in the Nights Watch, had sent ships to Hardhome to help evacuate. And Dany did not entirely understand what a _“warg” _was, but Marick was teaching Arya what it meant, and Arya tried to explain it to Dany.

“Are you ready, your grace?” Ser Barristan asked. Over the course of their voyage Daenerys had been making an effort to learn any and every skill that she might need in Westeros, learning history and politics with Arya and Tyrion was one thing, but she was going to war, she had to know how to fight.

Dany opened her mouth to say yes, but something caught her eye and she felt her stomach twist. “Not today, there’s someone I must speak to.”

The maester was where he always was, at the railing of the ship looking out at the dragons. There had been something Dany had meant to ask him about since she had learned of his skills, but there had never seemed to be any time.

“Maester.” She announced herself.

“Your grace.” He bowed. “Are you well?”

“I was hoping you may be able to tell me that.” She still did not entirely trust this new comer, she believed the letter he gave her was truly from her great great uncle, but something about Marywn made her weary. She checked that no one was listening. “You will not have heard, because very few people know, but when I was wed to Khal Drogo I became pregnant. To cut a long story short the boy died before he was born, and afterwards the witch involved told me I could never bear a living child.”

“I’m sorry for this, and it is likely you were wise to keep this to yourself.” The maester bowed his head slightly.

“But when I was on the Dothraki sea,” Dany continued, “I bled. And I realised I could not remember the last time I had bled. But I was also very ill before the Dothraki found me.”

“I’m not sure what it is you’re asking?” The maester looked slightly impatient.

“I would like to know if I will be able to have children.” Daenerys looked across the water to where Drogon was fishing. “Human children.”

“It’s hard to say,” Marwyn looked at her slightly quizzically, “I cannot make a proper diagnosis from what you have told me. If your grace would permit an examination, that’s would shed some more light on the situation.”

“An examination?” Dany did not truly need to ask what he meant by that, she was no fool. “When?”

“Whenever you wish.” The maester shrugged. “I have nothing to do now if you would like an immediate answer.”

Daenerys nodded. “I would.” She felt slightly nervous at the prospect, buts she had had far worse things done to her than have a medical examination. _You must make allies in Westeros, marriage is the best was to forge alliances, and nobody wants a barren queen. _

The examination wasn’t all what Daenerys had thought it would be. The maester conducted it in his cabin instructed the guards not to admit anyone until they were finished. He looked between her legs only briefly and spent most of the time inspecting her stomach and breasts. He asked her when she had first bled and how soon after that she had been wed and conceived. She answered to the best of her memory.

“And when you were on the Dothraki sea, you say you were ill?” He asked.

“Yes, I tried to make my own way back to Meereen, life away from civilisation did not much suit me. I ate some berries and I they made me be sick and… other, stuff.”

“Problems with your bowels?” The maester senses her discomfort and tried to put it politely.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Please forgive my asking your grace, but know that I hold everything said here to be of absolute confidentiality.” He paused and waited for her to nod, she did. “Would you often share your bed with your second husband before his treason was discovered?”

“I did my duty as a wife.” She said. “So yes, I bed him.”

“And before your marriage to Hizdar?” The maester asked, he sat back slightly, knowing he was asking something sensitive. “Did you keep the company of any men then?”

“I fail to see what relevance this has.” Dany avoided the question and pushed the maester to make his point.

“Forgive me, your grace.” He bowed his head. “But I think you may have had a miscarriage on the Dothraki sea, I don’t believe it was your moons blood.” Dany was quiet for a moment and the maester took it as an opportunity to continue. “If I am correct then you may yet bear a healthy living child.”

“But if you’re right then this one died too.” Dany hissed, she would not live in false hope.

“You were under conditions of extreme stress, living off of berries you found and meat your dragon caught, walking near footed and in rags across unknown land. The berries you are were likely poisonous, it’s a miracle you survived that baby did not stand a chance, but the next one might.”

As soon as he said that, Daenerys knew that he meant it, he truly meant it. “So you think there will be a next one?”

“There is every possibility, just so long as you don’t die before we reach Westeros.” The maester have her a small smile. “Have you given any thought as to who you will marry this time?”

“Aegon.” The response came quickly, almost immediately. “There is no other option. We are the last two Targaryens, it’s our duty.”

Marwyn gave her a sceptical look. “Will you wed before the war or after?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Wars can be lengthy, what if something befalls one of you before you can be wed? Who else would you consider?”

“I don’t see why I should consider anyone else.” Daenerys felt herself begin to lose her cool. “Aegon and I will be married and we shall have dragons. My nephew my _only_ option for marriage, if something does befall him then yes, I suppose I shall have to make alliances and look for a husband elsewhere. But I will not begin my search for his replacement before I have even met the man.” 

“I only ask, you grace, because I have some suspicions about the boy.” The maester’s voice was calming. “When children of renown die, especially royal children and _especially _royal babies, there are always those who seek to gain from it. Anyone with the right look and enough support can claim to be a long lost family member, it is rare that they actually are. I am not asking you to discredit the man completely, merely to be wary of him.But if he is who he claims to be then I would agree with you, he is the best choice for your hand.”

“Oh?” Daenerys raises her eyebrows.

“Yes, there has been much research done in Oldtown on this subject, an it is known that Targaryens struggle to produce healthy offspring with people who aren’t of Targaryen of Valyrian blood.”

“How so?” Dany’s interest was now peaked.

“Generations of inbreeding has meant that often when the men in your family marry women from other families childbirth becomes more difficult. Your brothers wife, Princess Elia, though she was never especially well struggled terribly with the birth of her own children.” Marwyn explained.

“So you think the reason Rhaego went so wrong is because Drogo wasn’t Valyrian?”

“I think it may have been a contributing factor.” The maester admitted. “And mayhaps you will wed someone who is not descended of Valyria and still have many children with him, or else you may wed Aegon and have many children with him. You are young, Your Grace, all things are possible in your future.”

“Thank you,” Dany nodded, smiling, “for you advice.”

Daenerys left to find Ser Barristan, she was not sure how well she would fight after what she had just learned, but the knees had given her hope and she would cling to it. But hope or not she still had a war to prepare for, so she had to keep training.

The sun was setting early these days, winter truly was coming. Daenerys called a meeting of all her major councillors to discuss their plans for the war. In the room were Ser Barristan, Arya, Greyworm, Tyrion, Victarion Greyjoy (purely out of curtesy) and his red Priest, Moqoro.

“It has been long agreed that Dragonstone will be our landing point and our first stronghold of this conquest.” Daenerys began. “But we need to decide where we shall go after that.”

“The Iron Islands will show you their support if I do, we should go there and collect the rest of the Iron Fleet.” Said Victarion.

“The Iron Island lie on the other side of the continent, it would take too ling to get there and we would risk being seen by the Lannister’s when we pass Casterly Rock.” Tyrion rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine.

“Not if we sail out of sight of the coast.” Victarion smirked.

“Good Lord, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that we have three dragons flying with us, they will not be hard to spot no matter how far from the coast we sail.” Tyrion countered.

Victarion shut up, and Dany smirked slightly.

“I would suggest we start with Kingslanding, your grace.” Tyrion was giving her an odd look, one she was sure she had seen somewhere before. “If we storm the capital it will fall within a day and it will be ours. Once you have the Iron Throne you will be able to call yourself Queen and then we can think about the other Kingdoms.”

“Storming the Capital would be a disaster.” Barristan shook his head. “If we use the Dragons thousands of innocents will die and no one will want to follow her. We should win the people first, make allies of the other kingdoms _then _take Kingslanding, with as little bloodshed as possible. Winter is almost here Westeros does not need this sort of instability.”

“You’re right.” Tyrion admitted. “Winter is on its way. So we can’t afford to wait any longer, the more time we spend arguing with petty lords the less time we will have to ensure the people of Westeros can endure. Take the Capital quickly you’re Grace, the Red Keep will fall and no one will dare to defy you. It’s the best way, the necessary evil.”

“No,” Dany decided. She looked at Tyrion again and suddenly she recognised his face, it was the face she had seen so often in Meereen. He was asking her permission to take revenge, revenge on his family, “I will not be the queen of the ashes, I cannot rule though fear, I have to be loved, my people must be happy and healthy and living. I will try to win the Kingdoms. Which one first?”

“The Riverlands.” Arya answered instantly. “They saw more hardship than any other kingdom during the war of the five kings, believe me. They were ground zero for the conflict between the Starks and the Lannister’s, neither of those houses are especially popular there anymore, if you go there and offer them food and stability they will follow you.”

Daenerys looked to her other advisors, all agreed, some more reluctantly than others, that it was a good plan to start in the Riverlands. “We should make our base here,” she said, pointing at the castle marked on the map, “I understand it change ownership many times during the war, it will likely be of little use to anyone now and therefore easy to take. It’s also well positioned and was the place where Aegon I first showed the true power of the dragons, it’s only right that we make it our stronghold whilst winning the Riverlords.”

“Agreed, Harrenhal is a wise place to start, but where next?” Tyrion asked.

“Riverrun.” Arya suggested. “My mothers family used to be the lords there, I could bring them to your cause if any remained,” she looked at Tyrion, “who is Lord of Riverrun now?”

“Officially, Emmon Frey.” He answered, scratching his chin. “But last I heard your mothers uncle and your brothers wife remained in the castle under siege by both the Freys and the Lannister’s. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Mayhaps I can help.” Moqoro turned in his seat beside the fire, finally turning away from the flames and facing the council. Daenerys was unsure of the new member of her council. She had met countless red priests in her time, but something about the orange and red flames that covered his face unnerved her, and the way his eyes seemed to bore straight into her soul. She nodded for him to continue regardless, _he may well be the dark flame, but he has not yet revealed himself disloyal. _“I have looked into the flames, I can tell you that this girls great uncle no longer holds your castle, it is in the hands of the usurpers now.”

“Then where’s my uncle?” Dany saw the way Arya twitched ever so slightly, the girl was _so good _at hiding her emotions, but when it came to her family there was always a slight tell.

“He is alive, and protected by the Lords Light.” The answer seemed just enough to pacify Arya, but there was clearly some other idea forming in the girls brain.

“If we take Harrenhal, we can begin our work on the Riverlands,” Dany repeated, “and also spread out above the Neck as well. I have no wish to burn any castles without proper reason, and I know the northern strongholds in particular are weak at this time, if we send ravens to them all once we have established ourselves and offer them peace, and tell them also that we have the support of the Starks.” She inclined her head at Arya who smiled back.

“A wise decision.” Tyrion remarked. “May I suggest also that we send envoys to the Vale, Little Lord Robert is a sickly child, he may well have passed already. Petry Baelish is the boys regent but I have no idea who the heir is. We should win them to our side quickly, and hope the next Lord of the Vale will have more of an interest in the War for Westeros that Lysa Arryn did for the War of the Five Kings.”

“Yes.” Dany agreed. “So assuming we can secure the allegiances of the North and the Vale relatively quickly, we should soon have a force large enough to take the south?”

“Are force would be large enough even without the North and the Vale.” Victarion muttered. “If you take the North you’ll have to compete against Stannis Baratheon, I know he was at the Wall when I left, he could well have already begun his own conquest. If not however, my niece may still hold-”

“She does not.” Moqoro interrupted. “Your niece was defeated by Lord Stannis and taken as his prisoner. She has since escaped and is back on the Iron Islands, with her brother Theon.”

“Euron won’t let them, he’d kill them before he let them threaten his position.” Victarion’s ugly face was even more dour than usual. Daenerys did not like his face nor did she like the man behind it, she found he had far too pride in himself for such an undeserving man.

“The Crows eye is not there, he is already attacking Oldtown.” Moqoro turned and looked the Queen directly in the eye, it took everything in Dany not to break her gaze. “You would be wise to keep your dragons away from him, your grace.”

Something about his warning, paired with the look Victarion was now giving him sent shivers down Dany’s spine. She nodded. “If what the priest says is true, mayhaps it would be best for you to sail home after all, my Lord.” She suggested to the Greyjoy. “Take a portion of your ships to secure your home and ensure your niece and nephew are safe.”

Victarion looked as if he might argue back, but the priest turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The Lord nodded. “Your grace.”

“The brotherhood!” Arya exclaimed suddenly. “Forgive me, but what the priest said, about my uncle being _“protected by the Lords Light” _there’s a group in the Riverlands who chose not to fight for any side during the war. They follow the Lord of Light and we’re always good to me. They may have the Blackfish.”

“Good for them.” Tyrion quipped. “How does it help us?”

“The common folk love the brotherhood, they fought for the _people_ during the war, so the people love them, believe me I’ve seen it. They were always good to me and I think even if they can’t be swayed to follow you, they won’t oppose you. And whatever they do, the people will follow them.”

“You think we should seek them out?” Dany asked.

“Yes,” Arya nodded firmly, “send me and the priest, they’ll listen to him for his faith and they’ll trust me because they know me. If Moqoro tells them what the priests in Essos believe, that you are _the Prince that was Promised_,” Dany rolled her eyes slightly, _it’s a ridiculous title, I’m not even a boy, no matter what Aemon believed, “_they’ll have to follow you.”

“Very well.” The Queen consented. “The two of you will go find them. Is there anything else anyone wishes to discuss?”

“No, your Grace.” They all chorused.

“Then we shall adjourn. Thank you all, my lords, maester, _Torgo Nudho_,_ Arya.” _Dany have the girl a half smile and she smirked back. Council returned to their places above decks, but Dany spent the rest of her day studying the map, making it her task to learn every Castle, town, lake, forest and mountain in Westeros. _This will be my kingdom, I must know both it’s people and it’s Geography If I am to stand a chance in this war. That is how the conqueror won, and is how I will win, with knowledge and maps, and Fire and Blood. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! And I’m going to be gone again, sorry! There’s no particular reason I just have a lot of work to do and it’s hard to find time to fit in writing, plus when it’s been a while I tend to forget what I’ve written so it needs more work and going over.  
Anyway, sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy, let me know what you think :)


	12. A King In Every Corner

-ASHA IV-

Having spent half her life at sea, Asha never expected to miss her home so much. But when their ship finally came within sight of Pyke she almost wept. The mainland kingdoms and lords may laugh at the damp grey islands she called home, but Asha knew this place and she knew it people, and she would die for any one person that lived there. _Well, mayhaps with a few exceptions. _For one, Ashas “_husband” _would have to be removed from the Islands with great haste to prevent any further meddling from her Uncles and their men.

The greeting her ship received at the docks was a somewhat hostile one. Until, that is, she was recognised.

“Lady Asha!” The man said. “I apologies, I hardly recognise you. Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story,” she chuckled, “I’ll make it know soon. But first I must find my uncle.”

“Which one.” The man signalled for the others to begin unloading the ship.

“The reader.” The man nodded so she left him and returned to the ship.

Theon stood at the railings staring down at the water beneath him. Asha was close enough to see and recognise the expression on his face, it was the one he had been worn many times during their travels. Running from the Wall had been the hardest part of their homecoming. Selyse has sent no one after them _thank God _so they had been lucky in that, and the snows had let up slightly so that had been less of an issue, but the closer they had come to their home, the more afraid Theon became. He reminded Asha of Jeyne when they had been riding to the wall together, often glancing out to sea as if assessing whether jumping would be worth it.

“Little brother.” She called out, making him look up. “We’re home.”

“I know.” Was all he replied.

Asha has made a point of feeding him well over their voyage. So while he was still not quite back to his old self, he had filled quite a bit especially in his face which was what mattered most. _He almost looks human again. _

There was a light rain falling as they rode across the island. It was cold rain, and as dry as rain could be on the Iron Islands. Asha knew that dry rain told that winter was here, that snow was coming. On the highest cliffs and peaks of the island she could see snow had already fallen, leaving the bleak grey peaks a slightly lighter shade of grey.

It did not take them long to reach Ten Towers. Asha had become a better rider during her escape from the Baratheons. Asha was thankful they had made it to her uncles keep so quickly, as she knew news of her arrival would travel fast and she did not want her “husband” to know she was home. _A marriage by proxy and without my consent. By all rights it should have less substance than Euron’s brains, but I am not that lucky. If Ironmaker finds me he will own me, and Euron will own me too. _

The gates of Ten Towers were open for them as they arrived, and Rodrik Harlaw was waiting for them.

“Asha.” He greeted as she slid from her horse.

“Uncle.” She nodded, noticing the Readers eyes wandering from her to the man on the horse behind her.

“What happened to him?” Rodrik’s face contorted in disgust. “He looks older than me, tell me that ain’t Theon.”

“It is Theon.” Asha replied as her brother limped towards them. His walking had improved, but the missing toes still caused him issues. “And the Bolton’s happened to him.”

“Uncle.” Theon greeted, his head bowed.

“Theon.” The Reader looked at Theon warily. “Why you looking so frightened for, hold your head up you’re Ironborn for gods sake!”

Theon lifted his head and met his uncles gaze, trembling slightly at first but he clenched his jaw and straightened his back. Asha knew her brother would never be the same arrogant boy he had been when he turned from the Starks, but something told her that wasn’t a completely bad thing. And this Theon would likely be more compliant with her plan.

“We need to talk, uncle.” She told him, there was no time to waste.

“Of course.” The reader paused. “Theon too?”

“I think there’s someone else Theon should speak to.” Rodrik lead them inside.

“Who?” Theon asked.

“Our mother.”

“She can’t see me like this.” Theon protested, stopping in his tracks and trying to back away, but only succeeding in mocking into a guard.

“She has to. Don’t tell her what happened, just say you’ve been away and you’re back now. Back for good.” Asha told him. Every time Asha would speak with her mother, Alannys would always ask where Theon was, she needed to see him no matter how he looked.

“Ashas right she’ll want to see you.” Rodrik agreed. “These men will take you to her.”

Once Theon was gone and everyone else was busy, Asha and her uncle sat down in his library to talk in private.

“You’re back.” Rodrik began.

“How observant of you.” Asha quipped.

“I’d ask how you escaped but it doesn’t really matter and we don’t have the time.” The reader sighed and took a scroll from under a book on his table. “From Euron.”

Asha took it from him with greedy fingers, greedier than she had intended and she ripped the parchment slightly. She read it slowly, taking in every word, trying to understand fully what she had missed and what was currently transpiring.

“He’s still in the shields?” She asked eventually.

“No, he was on them, then he left. He thought it would be fun to confuse the Lannister’s, so he said North again and attacked Faircastle, and sent word back here that any men remaining on the Iron Islands were to attack Seaguard. He sent some of his own fleet to help us.”

“So he attacked the two Castle at the same time?” Asha asked, she had to admit, mad as her uncle was Euron was clever.

“Aye. Both castles fell easy. The Farman’s and the Mallister’s were two houses hard hit by the war.” Rodrik leaned in close and Asha mimicked him. “Taking Seaguard was meant to scare people, to awaken them to the size of Euron’s force, it was a target of convenience, you understand. But I fear choosing Fair Isle was not such a random pick.”

“Why, what’s so special about Fair Isle?”

“Nothing anymore. But it was once, a long time ago, a place of great importance. Did you know that one of The Conquerors own granddaughters married a Farman once?” Rodrik’s voice was low, and Asha noticed the way he gripped the arms of his chair.

“Probably once I did, but the Targaryens history is a long and complicated one, you can’t expect me to remember who they all married. Did the girl have any children with the Farman? Does Euron have some ploy to win the Dragon Queen to his side using some distant relatives?”

“No, there’s not a drop of Valyrian blood in the Farmans. But the girl, Rhaena, she oft flew her dragon to the Isle, it even laid a clutch of eggs there once.” Rodrik gripped his chair even tighter. “Think, Asha, if they Farmans kept one, just one of those eggs, Euron will find it. Then he can do with that egg whatever he likes, be it hatch it himself or offer it as a gift to the Mother of Dragons, either way, the outcome is not in our favour.”

“How long ago did the dragon lay it’s eggs there?” Asha asked. She’d heard plenty of rumours and stories in her travels about great houses who had found or stole or won dragon eggs from the Targaryens, most were folly, and even for those that weren’t the eggs had petrified over the centuries. _The mother of dragons did a miracle in hatching hers, the rest are mere relics. _

“Some 250 years ago, I think.” The reader creases his brow.

“Then the Farmans have had 250 years to loose the bloody thing if they ever even had it in the first place.” Asha threw up her arms and laughed slightly. “Besides, there must be hundred of Dragon eggs scattered around the world, after all, Euron did find one before.”

“So he claims.” Rodrik murmured.

“Aye, so he claims, but the Mad Kings daughter got her hands on some too. If you want to sit here and worry about the locations of every single egg still in existence you’ll be here all Winter.”

“It’s not all the other Eggs I’m concerned about, it’s just this on, or these ones. The dragon that laid the eggs on Fair Isle, Dreamfyre it was called, and it’s rider Rhaena was the sister of King Jaehaerys,” Asha rolled her eyes slightly as she felt another history lesson was coming, _I have no time for this, _but she did not interrupt. “Rhaena lived on Fair Isle for years, and during that time _three _of her dragons eggs were stollen by Elissa Farman. She sold them to some wealthy merchant or Sealord over in the free cities, who exactly I don’t know. King Jaehaerys at the time of course did everything he could to get the eggs back into his family’s possession, but he never found them, no one that I’ve ever read about found their buyer or current location. But the Dragon Queen has three dragons, the eggs of which, I hear, were given to her by Illyrio Mopatis, and I’d say there’s a chance those eggs are the same three eggs the Farman girl stole from Rhaena Targaryen. If I’m right, and Euron did find another egg on Fair Isle, it would be kin to Daenerys dragons, and make Euron a far more attractive ally than he is currently.”

“That’s not good.” _Not bloody good at all, _Asha sat back and pushed a hand through her hair. “Well then we’ll have to stop Euron before he gets a chance to meet Daenerys.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Rodrik sat back and cocked his head to the side. “He’ll be back on the Shields by now, and preparing for his next voyage. You know he intends to attack Oldtown, in fact he may well be on his way there already.”

“We need him here, him and Victarion both. I know how to stop him now, nuncle, no kinslaying involved either of things go well.”

“How?” Rodrik pressed.

“The Kingsmoot. We’ll hold it again, there’s precedent of it happening, and I have grounds to call it again.” She stood now, filled with determination. “Theon. He is Balon Greyjoy’s last living trueborn son, he wasn’t at the Kingsmoot, but he has a claim, so we have to re- do it.”

“Precedent, yes, Torgon Greyiron was not a part of the Kingsmoot after his fathers death. He returned after 2 years and became the new King of the Iron Islands.” Rodrik smiled. “Oh, dear niece, I think you may truly have found something here. If only Theon were still Theon.”

“We have time to fix him,” Asha promised. “A few weeks here with food and training is all he needs. Then when my uncles both return, we can lay this all to rest.”

-ARYA IV-

It was exactly how the fat man had said it would be. The Island had appeared empty at first, the town was quiet but for a few men making their way along the docks. The castle on the mountain behind was illuminated in the light of the rising sun, and pale pink and orange light was reflected from all the glass windows as if an inferno were raging inside. _Dragonstone. _

Though the castle had appeared deserted from the distance of their ships, when they looked closer they could see men wandering the ramparts and defending its gates. The fat man told them about the Tyrell’s when he came to them in Meereen, Arya had been unsure whether to believe him, after all he had no reason to lie, but his face made her feel uneasy.

Ser Barristan had taken a small portion of their fleet to investigate the island and how strongly the castle was held, while the rest of Daenerys’ fleet, and her dragons, stayed far out to sea, beyond the sights of any look outs. Selmy returned after half a day and told them what he had seen; a sizeable garrison of Reachmen, and it appeared that more were arriving. There were too many for Daenerys fleet to take the castle by surprise, even under cover of darkness, and a siege was not the way they wanted to start the conquest. “We shall speak with them,” Dany decided. “I need allies far more than I want battles, and the Tyrell’s fought on my family’s side till the very end of the rebellion, they may well side with us again.”

“I’d be careful, your Grace,” Tyrion Lannister warned. “We know from their banners that they are Tyrell’s, but we must rely entirely on Illyrio’s word that it is Loras Tyrell who is in charge of this garrison. Loras’ sister, Margaery Tyrell, is married to Tommen, the King. They may not be willing to risk her life or the position her marriage brings their family for the sake of former loyalties to an all but dead house.”

“I understand,” Dany nodded. “But I must try.”

“Your Grace,” Arya asked quietly. “Speaking with them is a good idea, but I’d suggest you have some plan for if you should fail.”

“Yes, I will,” Dany called Ser Barristan to her. “You and Arya are to be with me when I negotiate with Ser Loras, but I think the dragons should stay out of sight ‘till they are needed. Did you see any scorpions, siege weapons, catapults, etcetera when you were scouting the Island?”

“No, your grace,” the old knight replied. “I can’t say I did.”

“Good.” Dany nodded to the captain of her unsullied, greyworm. “You will take two ships of your own men and the three ships that carry the dragons, you must hold them there until I call for them.”

The unsullied captain nodded his head in understanding, but said no word in reply. Daenerys had been working on training the dragons during their time at sea. Arya had found it strange to watch at first, she had assumed that Daenerys would simply _know _how to control them, she had hatched them after all, they were her children as she herself would always say. But it had not taken Arya long to see where she had thought wrong.

The black dragon was the largest of the three, Drogon, and Arya knew that it was Drogon that was truly Daenerys’, for it was this dragon Dany had taken as her mount. She could control Drogon well enough, but the other two, the green one especially, were wild creatures and Arya would have easily claimed they were untrainable, but Dany was determined to prove her wrong.

They had been at sea barely a week when Victarion revealed that he was in possession of some magical Valyrian dragon horn that had been given him by his brother Euron. Of course, Daenerys, mother of dragons and breaker of chains, could never allow a nam like Victarion to own a device that could give him the power to control and enslave her children, so she took it from him, much to his disapproval.

Arya had been with the Queen when she brought it onto Drogon’s boat, the dragon had hissed when he saw the thing, and when Dany made to blow it he screamed at them so loudly Arya was left deaf in both ears for the next three days. The other two dragons had also been disturbed by the horn, they left their boats and did not return for almost a week. Daenerys and Arya, along with Tyrion Lannister and Moqoro, has spent much of their time on the ship investigation the horn, deciphering its tunes and spells. Most were in Valyrian, but there were a few symbols from a dialect that not even Moqoro knew.

In the end they all decided that the thing was too dangerous. Daenerys, Arya and Tyrion voted to sail out away from the other ships and drop the horn into an unmarked patch of sea. Moqoro had a different request. “Your Grace, this horn, dangerous as it must be, is a relic from your ancestors. It possesses a magic that can never be recreated by the sorcerers of our modern world, it would be too much of a waste to simply lose it. And the sea is an unreliable ally, who’s to say the thing won’t be discovered again someday, or washed upon a beach by some storm. I have a safer idea.”

Arya had been sceptical, she remained unsure what to think of this Red Priest, or any Red Priest for that matter. She gave Tyrion a sideways glance to see how he’d reacted, he seemed to have had a similar reaction to hers, except he seemed far more in awe of the priests boldness than she was. What Moqoro had said began to sink in deeper, and Arya was about to open her mouth to argue with him when she saw the look on Daenerys face. Her friends eyes were hard, focused on the horn, her brows were low and the expression she wore was dark and unreadable. _Don’t listen to him! _Arya screamed in her mind, _he’s fooling you, don’t listen to the dark flame there is something wrong with this!_

“What do you suggest?” Dany asked finally, and Arya felt her heard stop beating for a moment.

“I suggest you break this horn into a more manageable object. I’ve always thought it unnecessarily large.” The priests face was calm, but Arya knew how to read a face, and how to spot a lie.

“You want to cut it up?” Arya scoffed. “How would that help.”

“I’m simply suggesting that this,” he gestured to the horn, it was the largest horn Arya had ever seen, the size of a man. It was made from the horn of some giant Dragon back in Valyria’s glory days.

Daenerys reaches out and touched it, none of them had dared do that before as Moqoro had warned them it could burn them, but it did not appear to cause Daenerys any harm. “Will it still work if it’s cut?” Her eyes seemed clouded by something Arya could not interrupt, _memory, longing, this man is evil, _she thought once again.

“I do not know. But we should try.”

“Very well,” Dany stood tall, her eyes snapping back into focus. She picked up a dagger from the table and etched a faint line near the top of the horn. “Have them cut it here, that should be small enough to hold and use in battle. And if it ceases to be magical, it’s still a beautiful horn.”

Once the horn had been cut Daenerys had dropped the unusable part into the ocean. The small horn did not cause the dragons as much distress, and there was often a debate on whether it still possessed any magical qualities, but it served well enough as a regular horn and it certainly helped draw the dragons attention. Arya did notice, however, that Daenerys attempts to train and control her dragons were far more successful now she had horn. But the horn had always left Arya with a sour feeling after she would see it, so she decided she would rather not speak of it.

Dany wore the horn as they met with Loras Tyrell. Here, it would seem, the fat man had been misinformed, he told them Ser Loras had been gravely injured during the attack on the castle when Stannis’ men still held it, but the young man seemed healthy as Arya was herself. When the magister arrived Meereen Arya had been sulking with Dany, the Queen recognised him instantly, and treated him with as much grace as she would any other guest, but Arya could see the mistrust behind her eyes. Arya did not trust the man either, it took her a moment to recognise him, then it came to her, she had seen him in the audience once when she was Mercy the mummer. At that time, she had felt as if she knew his face, and this time upon their formal meeting, and hearing the mans voice, it came to her how she knew him. It had been _he _that Arya had heard that day in Kingslanding. He was one of the men she had followed through the dungeons. Arya remembered all the men had discussed, how they spoke so freely of _“removing” _her father as hand, they spoke of a princess and a savage too, and with the benefit of all she now knew of Dany’s life she decided they could only have been referring to her. Arya would have ended the fat man then and there, but Dany bade him sit and eat with them, and Arya would not disrespect guest right, even in Essos. She found time later that same evening to speak to the fat man, she told him who she was and what she had heard in Kingslanding. Part of her expected him to deny it but the man, who had always seemed so composed before, was left speechless at her declaration, eventually stuttering out that he had never been followed before and was stricken that he had not noticed her presence. Arya used his confusion to load him with questions, _no,_ Arya stopped herself, _don’t think about that now, think about Daenerys now, you are here as her advisor and protector. _

“Your Grace,” Ser Loras bowed. Arya remembered her sister returning to the tower of the hand after the Hand Tourney, she had been mooning over all the young handsome knights she had seen, and had boasted to Arya specifically of how Ser Loras Tyrell had given her his favour. Seeing the knight now it was easy to understand why Sansa would have liked him so, he was the perfect picture of a knight. “I must admit, when I received word of who’s fleet it was approaching the Island I did not believe it. You have been gone from Westeros for so long I expect many people will struggle to believe in your existence, though seeing you now it is impossible to deny.”

“I thank you, Ser,” Daenerys said, nodding her head lightly, though Arya wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. “It was good of you to agree to meet. And I am glad you are looking so well, we were under the impression you had been injured during your assay if this castle.”

“I am grateful to say you were misinformed, I am well as ever. And on the subject of treating with you, I have faced much conflict of late to allow an opportunity for peace pass me by,” he smiled politely, but Arya could see he was only hiding his fear. “And from what I hear it is never wise to deny the Mother of Dragons.”

Arya knew already where he was leading this conversation. “Wise words,” Daenerys replied, forcing a smile too. “Too often people will rush into war when we could have words.” _Words are wind, _Arya thought, slightly bemused as that was the only thing everyone in Daenerys’ party could ever agree on. “Now I’m sorry to have to be so blunt, but there is a situation here which needs correcting. You and your men are currently inhabiting Dragonstone. Dragonstone is my birthplace and my family’s ancestral seat, I would like it back.”

“I appreciate this,” Ser Loras replied, ever polite, but the fear in his eyes was growing and his fingers were clearly itching to reach for his sword. “But I took Dragonstone from Stannis Baratheon on the the Kings orders, I hold it now in his name. So you see, I cannot simply give it to you.”

“Very well, I am still loath to attack this place but if that is what we must come to, you should know this; I have close to nine hundred ships in my fleet, on each ship is a hundred men. I do not know the exact size of your army, Ser Barristan here,” Arya noticed the way Dany chose now to accentuate the fact that she had such a respected warrior on her side, “tells me he saw ships coming in from other places in the Reach, so you are trying to bolster your numbers. If I am forced to attack, I will have close to ninety thousand men at my disposal. But I am in no mood to waste them in a rush to win this place nor do I wish to suffer a siege. This would be an issue, I’m sure, but I have a third choice in mind.”

“What choice is that?” Ser Loras Tyrell was not smiling anymore. The fear on his face was now concealed by the hard face of a warrior, determined to keep his composure, Arya knew he must already have guessed what Daenerys choice would be, but he was playing to her plan anyway.

Daenerys did not utter a word in response. Instead She reached over her shoulder and pulled the horn form where she wore it, slung across her back. Then, with her eyes fixed on Ser Loras, she blew the horn long and hard. The sound left a ringing in everyone’s ears and they all tried hard to stay up but one of Ser Loras’ men collapsed from the thing being blown so close to him.

“Is that your plan?” Ser Loras asked, “deafen me?”

Daenerys smiled, and so did Arya. Another sound answered Daenerys’ call, an unearthly screech that could only come from one thing. Drogon rose up from the far side of the Island, obscured at first by the castle, but he soon appeared ahead of them in the sky and landed on one of the towers, screaming again just to Prince his mothers point.

Loras Tyrell turned back towards them, his eyes wide in so shock and fear and intimidation. “The other two are on their ships,” Daenerys said, calmly. “But I could call them too if you need any further demonstrations.”

“So you intend to burn us.” Loras said, both his men now hand their hands on their sword hilts, Arya did the same. “Make Dragonstone the next Harrenhal?”

“Of course not,” Dany pulled a face at that. “Have you not been listening? This is my home and I would like it back, I was simply trying to incentives you. I will take the Seven Kingdoms, but I would rather do it the easier way, with friends and allies. I am giving you a chance to surrender, a chance for you and your family fight on the winning side.”

“I’m sorry, but you don’t understand,” Ser Loras’ eyes looked truly apologetic, almost pleading with them. “I’m a _kingsguard!_ I am sworn to protect Tommen and his family, a family that includes my sister. Tommen is a sweet child and has the potential to be a good king, but-”

“-but he is only a child and Westeros need a real ruler now more than ever.” Dany finished for him, her face softened slightly as she began to understand their foe some more. “Well, I can make no promises for all of Tommen family, but the boy himself and your sister have never done me any wrongs. If you surrender to me now, I promise you neither shall face any punishment at my hands.”

“I can’t surrender, as I said I’ve taken vows, it’s my duty to protect this place from you.” Something in Loras’ face changed, “but as you said, this place is your family’s home, I’m sure you know it better than I ever could. If I were to surrender this place to you, no one beyond the Island would need know how you care to posses it. I’m sure you know of secret tunnels, ways to sneak your army and your dragons in. My forces were outmatched.”

Arya found herself smiling, and noticed Daenerys and Ser Barristan were smiling also. “I see no problem with that.” Daenerys said.

“But you would have to promise my sisters safety.” Loras said. “And an annulment for her and Tommen if she wishes.”

“I give you my word.”

“I would like to send word to my family in Highgarden. My grandmother should know what I have done here, she can be trusted.”

“Of course.” Dany nodded. The Queen turned to her the head of her Queensguard . “Ser Barristan, send for the fleet to come to shore.” Next she turned to Arya. “If you would stay Ser Loras and learn what you can I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Where are you going?” Arya asked, uneasy at letting her friend go off alone.

“I’m going to explore my home.” With that she walked away a small distance and blew her horn again, and twice more. Drogon flew down beside her as Rhaegal and Viserion both entered the skies above them. Before Arya had time to blink, Drogon was back in the air again, Daenerys with him.

Ser Loras eyed Arya carefully for a moment before turning to his men, “go back, gather all the men, tell them what has happened. And tell them what the world must think happened here.” His men nodded and exited. The knight had chosen a perfect place to negotiate, it was a small platform on a hill above the beach. The stone the platform was made from was unlike any Arya had seen before, black, smooth and semi transparent, like burnt glass. Behind Arya was the Narrow sea and Dany’s fleet could be seen far across the horizon. Before Arya was the great Castle of Dragonstone. It must have some half a league away, and Loras’ men would take a while to reach it, even mounted as they were.

Ser Loras cleared his throat, “forgive me, my lady,” Arya tried not to wince at the title, “but I fear I do not know you.”

“No, we never spoke but I did see you in Kingslanding several times.” Arya was only trying to be polite but she saw it was confusing him, “I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

“Last I heard Arya Stark was in Winterfell, wedded to Ramsey Bolton.” Loras Tyrell looked skeptical.

“Well that is a lie. Who told you that?” Arya knew for Tyrion Lannister that most of Westeros thought her dead, he had said nothing of her allegedly being in Winterfell married to one of her enemies.

“It’s common knowledge in court. So who are you really.”

“Arya Stark.” Arya repeated stubbornly.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.” Loras Tyrell said. “You have Lord Stark’s look, ill give you that, but you’ll have to give me some other proof.”

Arya thought for a moment. “My sister, Sansa, you knew her, yes?”

“Yes.”

“After the first day of the Hands tourney she returned home late, happier than I had ever seen her. She told me how wonderful the joust had been and how I should have been there too, then she told me how Ser Loras Tyrell has given her his favour before his final joust. She found herself especially privileged as you had given every other girl a white rose but to her you gave a red rose.”

Ser Loras looked slightly guilty, “I’ll confess, I do not remember that happening at the tourney,” Aryas stomach dropped she hand no other way to think of to prove who she was, “but once, much later I was walking with your sister and she brought it into the conversation. I believe you.”

Arya sighed. “Thank you. That’s begs the question then though, doesn’t it. Who’s in Winterfell married to Ramsey Bolton?”

“I couldn’t say, only…” Loras trailed of, “it was the Lannister’s who gave her to the Bolton’s I know that, they could have lied, putting someone they could control in charge of the North.”

“That sounds like them.” Arya felt the wind blow past her, kissing her cheek, They were cold winds, winter winds.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did Arya Stark come to be serving as councillor to Daenerys Targaryen?” Loras asked.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you it if you can tell me how Loras Tyrell came to ruling Dragonstone, and why we were told you had been gravely injured.” Arya smiled.

-NYMERIA I-

Kingslanding smelt of shit. It was the first thing she had noticed when she entered the city, the smell. Clearly the city was yet to discover the concept of closed sewers. When Nymeria first arrived in the capital she decided that there was not one city in all of Dorne that she liked less than Kingslanding. In the time since then, though she hated to admit it, the place had grown on her. Or at least the people had.

There came a nock at her door, “who is it?” Nymeria Sand asked.

“Queen Margaery, my Lady.” Replied her page.

“Send her in.” Nymeria smiled, and stood as the girl entered. “Your Grace.”

Margaery waited until the door closed and the two were completely alone. Once she new their conversation would be private, Margaery sat down in the chair across from Nymeria and grinned. “It turns out the only credible witness they still had was Grand Maester Pycell and, well, he’s no longer able to testify against me. So now all they have is Cersei’s bitter accusations and the ramblings of a maddened bard.”

“So they’re acquitting you?” Nymeria knew her friend was innocent, but she had worried for her all the same. “Your cousins too?”

“All of us.” Margaery smiled. “My father still wants me to leave with Lord Tarly, but I see no cause to now.”

Since the murder of Kevan Lannister and Grand Maester Pycell, the Kings small council had grown even smaller. Cersei had been placed under even more security, barred from seeing anyone Tommen included. A new grand Maester had come, grand maester Nymos. This maester was far younger than Pycell had been, and far sharper too. And blessedly uncorrupted, which was a rare quality in Kingslanding.

The Kingsguard was a mockery of late. With the Kingslayer lost somewhere in the Riverlands, Loras Tyrell on Dragonstone and Osmund Kettleblack still a prisoner of the faith until Cersei’s trial, the most senior member of the Kingsguard, and therefore the one appearing on the small council, was Ser Meryn Trant. The other three remaining members were Balon Swann, Boros Blount and Robert Strong. Ser Meryn and Ser Boros were assigned to watch Tommen at all times, Boros even tasting his food before every meal. Ser Balon has become Princess Myrcella’s guard, it made sense as the girl had grown more trusting of this Knight during their travels to Kingslanding.

The last knight, Robert Strong, was Cersei’s personal guard. Even locked in her chambers as she was, the great beast was forever standing guard by her door. It seemed to Nymeria he stayed there all day, every day never stopping, not even to eat, not even to sleep or even shit. He just stood there. Ser Balon had brought Nymeria’s uncle what he claimed to be the head of Ser Gregor clegane. The had all seen then that it was a lie, but seeing that creature stand there plain as day, with no disguise but the veil of _Ser Robert Strong_, it filled her with such rage when she saw him.

“Is Lord Tarly still camped outside the city?” Nym asked.

“Yes,” margaery sighed. “I can’t think why, they’ve sent fifty more men for my personal guard, and I’m not fool enough to think that makes me safe, but those men out there are going to be of very little use to me if someone should try to kill me in my sleep.” She sighed agin and gave Nym a curious look. “What have you heard about the Targaryen boy?”

Nym scoffed. “The pretender you mean. I received word from my uncle recently, I’d remind you not to tell anyone, but I think I can trust you now?”

“Of course,” Margaery smirked. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Doran sent Arianne to speak with this _Aegon_, he’s taken Storms End, which you know. Arianne thinks this boy cannot truly be Aegon, he’s not Dornish enough she think. More than that, she asked why would Elia ever give away just one of her children? It’s a question I have been thinking myself, from all I’ve heard of her she would never have left one of her children in danger neither would she give one away to a stranger.”

“How old was Princess Rhaenys when the Rebellion happened?” Margaery asked, but answered herself, “three? Four? Either way she was old enough to be recognisable. Aegon was a baby, few people would have seen a difference. I’m sure Elia would have done the best she could given the circumstances.”

“Mayhaps, mayhaps not.” Nym shrugged. “I fear I’m a skeptic, I struggle to believe in long lost Princes who appear miraculously in our country’s time of greatest need and suddenly think they can fix the world.”

“Well real or not, he has an army. A large army.”

“A sell sword army.” Nym said. “All sell swords are the same, they will desert him eventually.”

“They say the golden company never breaks its contract.” Margaery retorted.

“And yet they broke one in order to join our dear _Aegon._” Nym disliked the topic of this conversation. “I tire of talking about this, I do not like disagreeing with you.”

“Nor I with you.” Margaery smiled. “Have you heard anything else from Oldtown?”

“They’re preparing for a siege, I hear. Euron Greyjoy is on his way there now, he has one of the largest fleets in the world, the Redwyne fleet is there now thanks to you brother clearing Dragonstone, and the Little King sent for the Lannisters to dispatch their fleet also, though that won’t arrive till after Euron, so it will be of little help in the defence.”

“That could be a good thing,” Margaery said. “Not that they can’t help, but if they can attach Euron from behind while the Redwynes attack him from the front it may catch him off guard.”

“Mayhaps,” Nym agreed, slightly absentmindedly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, who is you informant in Oldtown?” Margaery gave her a queer smile. “You know so much of what happens there, more than anyone else does, even more that Grand Maester Nymos.”

“That is my job, is it not?” She smirked. Margaery was much cleverer than the court realised she was, but that was her intention, most like, so she never seemed to be a threat to anyone. “I am the mistress of whispers.” The previous master of whisper, Quyburn had been arrested after his actions at the Citadel and his experiments in Kingslanding had come to light.

“True enough, but you receive a raven from Oldtown every few days now. Even Varys little birds could not write. Is it a maester?” Margaery seemed strangely intent on knowing this thing.

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m am curious is all.” Margaery threw her hands up. “If you wish to keep it secret I shan’t push you any further.”

Nymeria pondered it for a moment. “An Acolyte.” She trusted Margaery, truly, but the mistress of whispers was entitled to her own secrets. So that was all the information Margaery’s needed to know. “His father was a Dornishman, we met once, he told me how he wanted to be a maester and I thought it wise to have some friends in the Citadel.”

“A friend?” Margaery asked, smirking.

“Acquaintance really.” Nym smiled in return, the thought of what Margaery insinuated made her uncomfortable but she could not show that.

That was when another knock came at the door. “We are having an important discussion,” Nymeria protested, “what do you want now?”

“The King has called an emergency meeting of the small council,” the page called, “you are both to attend.”

“The king?” Margaery asked. “Tommen hardly ever even attends the meetings.”

“They say it’s an emergency,” both women stood.

By the time they arrived at the small council chamber everyone else was already seated and appeared to be beginning the discussion. Tommen was sat at the head of the table, Mace Tyrell the kings hand sat to his right, Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard to his left. The rest of the council were; Lord Randyll Tarly and master of Laws, Nymos as grand maester, Ser Harys Swyft as master of coin, and Lord Paxter Redwyne the master of ships, though Lord Redwyne was currently on route to defend Oldtown and therefore unable to attend.

“Your grace.” Margaery and Nymeria said as they entered the room, little Tommen nodded in return.

“I was told you requested my presence here, your grace,” Margaery chimed in a sweet girlish voice, “I am honoured.”

“You have a right to know what has happened, my lady.” Tommen replied, somewhat stiffly.

“What has happened?” Nymeria asked as she took her seat. “I was told this is an emergency meeting.”

“It is,” Randyll Tarly winced slightly as having her seated beside him, and he did not look at her as he spoke, but instead addressed the table. “Daenerys Targaryen has taken Dragonstone. We are unsure how she was able to take it so quickly and without us knowing, but reports say she found some way to sneak her men into the castle while our forces slept. We know not how many casualties there were.”

“Loras,” Margaery’s eyes were wide with fear suddenly, “what has happened to my brother?”

“Nothing, as far as we know.” Mace answered, reaching out a hand to comfort his daughter, “you may rest assured, we will try everything we can to bring him back.”

“How did she get here without us knowing?” Ser Harys asked.

“Our ships have been occupied, Swyft,” replied Lord Randyll. “We’ve known for sometime that she was moving on from Meereen, but our attention has been drawn to more local issues, I’m sure you will recall our city is overrun by religious fanatics.”

“We cannot blame them for their faith,” Margaery chimed, sweet as ever in the presence of her father and his peers, “besides, if not for them we would never have learned of the Queen mother’s crimes.”

“Truer word, my dear,” the Kings Hand smiled dotingly at his daughter. “But Lord Randyll does also have a valid argument, the sparrows have been causing distraction in our city, and now we must focus our attention on the Targaryen threat.”

“_Threats_.” Said Grant maester Nymos. “In the wake of Daenerys’ arrival in the east we cannot forget about the boy Aegon and his army in the west.”

Nymeria scoffed. “The pretender in the west. I have told you this before; the boy is not Aegon, silver hair and the word of an exiled knight is hardly proof of his identity.”

“I must admit, I’ve had such doubts as to the validity of the boys claims.” Lord Randyll agreed.

“Rhaegar’s son or not, the boy has a powerful army and has no doubt fooled some people,” said the Grand Maester. “The question we should ask is can he fool Daenerys, and how will she react?”

“How will she react?” Nymeria asked, slightly bemused. “She’s spent her life in exile, over the past two years she has built herself from nothing and from all we can learn she is bent on reclaiming her fathers Kingdom. Now she will no doubt have learned of a man claiming to be her blood who is also trying to conquer the seven kingdoms, you truly think she’ll have any love for the man who is trying to steal this thing from her?”

“Mayhaps she will hate him,” the master replied. “Mayhaps she will simply be glad to find that another member of her family has survived. If she believes him, that is.”

“I don’t understand,” all the council now turned to face Tommen as he spoke, “if Aegon truly is Aegon, then Daenerys’ claim to the throne would be much lesser than his. They have both taken Castles, but Storms End is the seat of my house and so it’s a more viscous attack, surely if the Lords of Westeros mean to side against us they will side with Aegon, not Daenerys. Is she not less of a threat than he is?”

“For any other woman this would be true, your grace,” said Lord Randyll, and and Nymeria saw Margaery trying hard to keep her face still. “But Daenerys has a powerful army, eight thousand unsullied reports claim, and somewhere around eighty thousand Dothraki.”

“This alone would make her a larger threat to us than Aegon, his force is only twenty thousand,” continued Lord Mace, “but Dragonstone is only a short sail from Kingslanding, she clearly has a large fleet and could attack at any time. And also,” the kings hand gulped slightly, “if we are to believe the reports, Daenerys has three large dragons.”

“Nonsense.” Scoffed the Grand Maester. “Dragons are extinct. Those who call her _the Dragon Queen, _or _the Mother Of Dragons _are simply being poetic in reference to her status as the last confirmed descendant of the Valyrian Dragon Lords.”

“If you truly believe that then you are a fool.” Nymerias face was had now. She had no time for men who ignored the truth because it did not fit their beliefs. “The girl has Dragons, all reports say the same. There are three and they are _true _dragons, nothing like the last few beast to crawl from the hatcheries of the Targaryens of old.”

“If you say,” shrugged Lord Randyll. “Dragons or no, she’s a threat to us. Her identity is inescapable, the whole world knows she is the Mad Kings daughter so there can be no question of her claim to the throne.”

“What will we do?” Tommen asked, his child’s voice was even higher than normal. “Shouldn’t we prepare? Shouldn’t we prepare for her Dragons?”

“Yes,” Lord Mace agreed, “we can hope the reports are false but we should prepare for the eventuality that t he dragons are real. Ser Harys, you will find funds for scorpions and siege weapons. The Reach can help provide food for Kingslanding if that is what we must endure.”

The council continued to discuss their strategies, all the men would quarrel over whether they should line the city walls with scorpions or catapults, and eventually decided for both. Nymeria stayed quiet now, only speaking when necessary to make herself seem invested in their plans. Little did these men know the fate that awaited them. _Quentyn family, but he was also a fool, I can mourn his death when there is time, but now I can only appreciate what his journey to Meereen has taught us. Daenerys dragons are the greatest weapons anyone could have, and Dorne will never again be at the wrong end of their flames. When war comes, no one who stands against us will survive. I will see to it myself if I must. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you’re all staying safe and staying inside! I’m so sorry for the wait, but silver lining of quarantine is that I now have nothing else to do (well, I have school but...) so I’ll be writing more hopefully. I was able to get this chapter done in about 2 days which was pretty good.   
So there a lot going on here I know, and there was originally going to be a Davos section in here too, but he comes in again next chapter so I really didn’t see the point in having it there, thats actually the reason there’s a Nymeria point of view in this. I have a plan for this fic and Nymeria was meant to make her first appearance as a POV in like chapter 16, but I needed a third person for this and I felt like she fitted best with the title and theme of this chapter, please let me know what you think as this is not something I was sure about but I enjoyed writing it!  
So I know there’s a lot happening here, sorry if it’s confusing and I don’t claim to be an expert on aSoIaF lore so I’m sorry if the stuff about the horn is wrong.   
All opinions are valid and appreciated (but please be nice) and I would love to hear what you think so please comment! I hope you enjoy chapter 12 :)


	13. You’ve Always Wanted One Of These In The Family

-AEGON III-

“Thank you all for meeting here, my lords.” Aegon addressed the men seated at the table. “I understand your frustrations, and I promise you, we will not be staying here much longer.”

They had been at Storms end for over a full moons turn now, and the officer of the golden company, along with Aegon himself, were starting to grow twitchy. They were staying too long. At first they had said they would only stay until all the officers and generals, or as many as they could get, had returned from sea or Tarth and the other isles. Now their numbers were large as they were like to grow, and they remained on Storms End still. The next excuse had been Princess Arianne. She had lingered a few weeks, but she departed over a fortnight ago, and they remained on Storms End still. Now Aegon’s patience was all but gone, and the man behind their delays was all out of excuses.

Jon grimaced slightly as Aegon spoke of leaving. “Are you sure that is the best option, your grace?” He asked once more, Aegon noticed how he fidgeted his gloved hands. “Mayhaps we should wait for Daenerys.”

“This is the right choice.” Aegon said, firmly. “And we need wait no longer for my aunt,” this was the news Aegon had been most keen to tell, he pulled a scroll from his pocket. “She is here. Daenerys has reclaimed our family’s ancestral seat of Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone has only recently been captured by the Tyrell’s,” said Lysono Maar. “How has the little King reacted to his good brothers defeat?”

“He’s calling his banners to Kingslanding to protect the capital.” Said Harry Strickland, smirking. “And he’s placing scorpions along the city walls.”

“Who in the Kingdoms remains loyal to him?” Aegon asked.

“Well, reports say the Bolton’s have been kicked out of Winterfell by Stannis Baratheon and a whole host of Northern Lords and clansmen, so they’ve most like lost the North completely.” Ser Franklyn flowers chuckled softly. “Euron Greyjoy is causing havoc along the coast, especially for the reachmen which is bad for Tommen since the reach is probably the only Kingdom whose loyalty is guaranteed. I would say the Westerlands are one of theirs too, but given Queen Cersei’s arrest and Tommens lack of action on his mother’s behalf I’d say they’re less reliable now.”

“Mayhaps,” Lysono Maar agreed, “but the Lannister forces are still under the Kingslayer’s control, pacifying the Riverlands. Ser Jamie is the Kings uncle, or father depending on who you believe, but he’s also the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, and sworn to protect Tommen.”

“The Kingslayers loyalties are about as certain as the autumn sea,” said Aegon, silencing the others momentarily. “An oath did not stop him murdering Aerys, we can’t know what he’ll do. But if the Lannister forces do pull back from the Capital it will make conquering the rest of the Kingdom that much easier for us, we’ll have a clear shot at the Riverlands and the North if they leave.”

“True enough.” Jon nodded, seeming to let go of his brooding long enough to make a helpful contribution. “If I may, who sent you the information of Daenerys’ victory on Dragonstone, and what else did they say?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Aegon smiled. “It was sent by Tyrion Lannister, he begs pardon for his disappearance in Selhorys, apparently he was abducted by Ser Jorah Mormont. The Knight took him to Daenerys and he’s been serving as her advisor ever since. He also says Daenerys is going to remain on Dragonstone for a short while so she can make her plans and establish the Castle as her stronghold. He told her about us, and she would like to meet soon as we are able so that we might discuss the conquest and a potential alliance.”

“You think he’s telling it true?” Asked Gorys Edoryen, the paymaster.

“I do, I see no reason for him to lie when we could easily write back to Dragonstone for confirmation, or learn from another source whether Dragonstone has even been taken at all.” Aegon shrugged, trying to disguise just how pleased he was at this news.

“Wonderful,” said Lysono Maar, slightly sarcastically. “Do we plan on going to her now or are we to be staying here even longer?”

“Neither,” Aegon looked to Griff as he spoke. “We will go west, first to Summerhall, then Ashford and Cider Hall, and finally, when the time it’s right, we will take Highgarden.”

“The Tyrell’s have one of the largest remaining armies in Westeros,” said homeless Harry Strickland. “You think we have the strength to take their castle from them?”

“Mayhaps,” Griff has warned Aegon of this. “If we have any luck the Tyrell’s that remain there and all their banners will be travelling to Kingslanding already, Daenerys will be keeping them occupied. What’s more, they will be taking the Roseroad there as it’s the most direct path. So we need have little fear of running into them there.”

“The castles we’ll be taking first, Summerhall, Ashford, will they be well guarded?” Asked Harry.

“Summerhall is a ruin,” Jon connington answered. “There will be no one there, our reason for passing through is purely sentimental. Ashford and Cider hall, well neither seat the greatest of houses, and both are Lord Mances Bannermen so the majority of their fighting men will be away.”

“Good,” Said Harry. “It will do us well not to lose half our men on lesser wins.” The captain eyed Aegon queerly for a moment, then added, “is it still your intention to marry Daenerys?”

“It is, why do you ask?”

“Your Hand is a valuable thing, it may be of help in winning this war.” Harry replied. “The Princess Arianne, for example. She lingered here so long I thought you may have grown attached to her. Marrying Dorne would not be a new thing for someone of your family, and it would have secured the loyalty of one of the Kingdoms.”

“My Hand will help up win this war,,” Aegon balled his fists to stem his anger. “It will help us by joining mine and Daenerys forces and uniting our house. There are only two Targaryens left in this world, for the sake of our family we must keep that blood pure.”

“She’s the mother of Dragons,” said Ser Frankly, almost fearfully. “The most beautiful woman in the world, so they say. Every man wants to marry her, two have already succeeded. Both of them are now dead.”

“What are you saying?” Aegon asked, feeling his anger begin to spread.

“We’re saying she may be your aunt, but she’s also one of the most powerful and dangerous women in the world. She used her first husbands funeral pyre to hatch her dragons, who’s to say the death was not also of her doing. The second husband,” Ser Franklyn sighed. “Well, when it came time for his execution she shunned the headsman and fed instead fed him to her children.”

“So you think it’s hopeless to pursue her?” He asked, now he knew there was no hope of containing his rage. “You think because every other man will want her there is little chance for me, and if I do succeed she will… what? Burn me? Feed me to her dragons? No. I am _more _than Khal Drogo was, I am more than whoever the second man was. I am Aegon Targaryen sixth of his name rightful king of the Andals and Rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm! I am more than an equal match of her power.” It took all of Aegon’s strength to calm himself. “Forgive me, for my outburst. We have lingered here too long. But remember, my Lords, you are my councillors in war, not marriage. Do not seek to try to influence me on that matter again.”

The captains and generals all nodded, slightly awkwardly. “Are there any further issues to discuss?” Asked Griff, looking at Aegon with something akin to disappointment in his eyes. Aegon reeled slightly at the look, it made him uncomfortable.

One officer seated near the end of their table, cleared his throat. “Your Grace, I have only recently returned to your company, but I possess something which I- we,” he gestured to the other commanders, “ believe is yours by rights.”

“What?” Aegon asked, intrigued.

The man stood and walked towards Aegon at the head of the table. Aegon stood too. “This has been in the Golden Company since Bittersteel founded it.” The man unbuckled his sword belt and held it out for Aegon.

He took the sword, still in its scabbard, from the captain. The jolt of the blade was ornate to say the least, red and black gold swirling together in flame patterns, a circular ruby embedded at the top with smaller rubies and black gems beneath it. The sound it made when he pulled it from its sheath was sweeter than any sound he had ever known. “This is Valyrian steel,” Aegon breathed.

“That’s not just any Valyrian steel,” said the captain who had given it him, Aegon did not remember his name. “That is-”

“-Blackfyre.” Aegon didn’t need to be told, it was the sword of his house, of Aegon the Conqueror. _This is my right. _

-JON IV-

It was snowing in the Riverlands. It was a comfort to Jon, this was the furthest from home that he could remember being. He knew he hadn’t been born in Winterfell, his mother had birthed him elsewhere in the kingdoms and his father had brought him home, but he could not remember that. So as far as he knew, this was the furthest he’d ever been.

Going North of the Wall had taken him further from Winterfell, sure, but Castle Black had been his home then, and he’d never been so far from the wall that it would take longer than a moons turn to return there. But neither Castle Black nor Winterfell were Jon’s home now. Winterfell he had left and given up years ago, and Castle Black was just the place he had died. Neither were home. _So where is my home? And how do I feel so far from it now? _Home was the North, it always had been. The Riverlands were neither North nor South, but to someone who had never left the North they were as Southern as a place could be, except for the snow of course.

Strangely though, Jon didn’t feel like it was his home that he had left behind him, _I am looking forward, I will find Arya and I cannot look back until I do. _Home needn’t be a place, home could be people. Jon’s brothers in the Nights Watch had been his home, Ygritte had been his home, Robb and Bran and Father had been his home. Robb and Father were dead now, and everyone said the same of Bran and Rickon. Even Arya, _dead for years, not seen since her fathers arrest, _but Jon had seen Nymeria in his dreams, and he was sure it had been Brans wolf that saved him when he ran from the Wildlings. _Mayhaps they aren’t gone, not entirely. And if there’s any chance at all that they’re alive, I have to look. _

It had taken Jon over a fortnight to cross the Neck, it had been the longest leg of his journey. In the North he had tried his best to stay off the Kingsroad, out of sight and safe, but always close to it so he did not lose his way. In the Neck however, he has no choice but to use that road. He had tried on his first day to keep off it, that had only resulted in getting Jon stuck up to his waste in mud and needing Ghosts help to pull him out. Every time they heard others coming they had rushed into the woods and stayed there until they were alone again. So that, along with the hassle of finding somewhere safe and hidden to sleep every night, had slowed them down considerably.

Now they were past the swamp Jon could leave the Kingsroad for good. He wasn’t sure entirely what he was looking for, only that he was dreaming more frequently, and more often than not in his dreams he was Ghost.

Their camp for this night was beneath a tree. A white tree with blood red leaves, and a hollow in the centre where a face should have been. Jon knew that the Andals and the First Men had cut down or burnt almost all of the Weirwood trees south of the Neck, but some, like this one, had their faces removed instead. He had hoped that sleeping beneath a Weirwood might help him find what he was looking for, but for some reason he felt this particular tree would be of little help to him.

Ghost was sat beside the fire, staring at him, red eyes burning as they reflected the flames. Jon touched where the face should be, the sap was now hard and brown, not the deep blood red he was used to seeing pouring from the eyes of other Weirwoods. It had been hundreds, if not thousands, of years since the Andals had come to Westeros, so Jon wondered if this tree was even still alive. But when he looked up he saw that leaves still grew from the branches, and it made a solid sound when he tapped it with his knuckles.

An idea came to him suddenly. He took his dirk from his belt and walked a quarter way round the tree, to where the trunk was smooth and undamaged. It was hard at first to cut the tree, but soon he dug deep enough for the eyes he carved to weep their weird blood tears. He modelled the face on off of the one the hearttree at Winterfell had, but calmer.

He had almost finished when he felt Ghost brush against his leg. The wolf had his teethe bared and his head low. Jon turned to see four men dressed in furs and armed with spear, sword and bow, well made, castle forged by the look of it.

“What’re you doing?” Asked a youth of around Jon’s age. He had light brown hair and blue eyes, and Jon could not help but find his face familiar. When Jon did not answer the boy repeated, “what are you doing to that tree?”

“Weirwoods are sacred t’ Old Gods,” said another, he looked older than the first speaker. This one had hair the colour of Jon’s campfire and pale brown eyes. “I wouldn’t blind them if I was you.”

“I’m not blinding them,” Jon put his left hand on Ghosts head, and kept his dirk gripped tightly in this left.

“Then what are you doing?” The first boy spoke again.

“Giving them eyes,” Jon stepped back and gestured to the brown hollow that must once have been a face.

The four of them all looked equally confused. “What’s that?” A different one asked, he looked to be the oldest of the four, with hair as black as pitch and eyes to match.

“When the Andals came to this country they destroyed most of the Weirwoods down here, some they cut some they burned, some they cut the faces off.” Jon wondered who these people were, and why they cared so much about the tree. “Everyone knows that.” It came to him suddenly, who they were, but it made little sense. “You’re Free Folk, aren’t you?”

“Aye,” answered the first boy, Jon still could not help but feel he knew this boy from somewhere. “Who are you? How’d you know?”

“I’m Jon Snow,” he told them.

“Jon Snow, the Lord Commander?” The black haired man asked.

“Yes.” Jon noticed how they all gripped their weapons a little tighter.

“What’s the Lord Commander o’ the Nights Watch doing in the Riverlands?”

“What’s a group of Free Folk doing in the Riverlands?” Jon eyes them careful, then, left hand still on Ghosts head as a warning, he put away his dirk. The four men all looked to one another, then did the same with their own weapons. “I left the watch,” Jon admitted once all their arms were away and they had each taken a seat around the fire. Jon knew it was risky to light one, but he’d though himself far enough from the Kingsroad to be noticed. “And I didn’t desert if that’s what you’re thinking. They let me go, I… found a loophole in my vows. I’m not gone for good though, when the great war comes, I’ll go back.”

“The Great War?” The red haired man asked. “What d’you mean by that?”

“You know bloody well what he means, Dryn,” said the fourth man. He had been silent before, choosing to let his companions speak. “He’ll fight when they come, the _White Walkers.”_

“The Others, aye,” Jon agreed. “I’ve answered you, now tell me what you’re doing here.”

“We’re going North.” The black haired man answered. He took the food Jon offered him. With Ghost with him, Jon found he seldom went hungry. The wolf had starting bringing down bigger game now they were south of the Neck, and that day he had been lucky enough to catch a deer, so there was plenty for Jon to share. Once the men were all eating together, they were far more relaxed. After all, they all shared the blood of the first men and guest right was sacred to them, even if they were only the guests of a campfire and the shade of an old tree.

“How did you get here though?” Jon asked, slightly irritably

The first man chuckled softly, “you want the whole story?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he finished chewing and cleared his throat. “We were all at Hardhome waiting to be saved. Your ships came, true enough, only they’d only take the women and the babes. Me and the eldest of my brothers were too old for those ships. There were other ships though, ships from the East. Strange looking men came out and said they’d pay anyone who came with them, so me and my brother went with them.”

“What did they pay you?” Jon asked, he could see where this story was going, but he still wanted to hear it.

“Food.” The boy said. “We didn’t even keep it, we gave it to our sister and the babes. The Eastern men, they put us in shackles the second we boarded their ship. They were slavers, see. When we reached their land they sent us off to different places. Me and my brother were sent to their fighting pits, but their was a sickness in that city, my brother caught it.”

The boys face was hard and cold, Jon knew the look, he’d lost his share of siblings too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the slave ships.”

“You tried,” the boy cleared his throat and took another bite. The three older men were all now checking their horses were properly leashed to the tree and settling down to sleep. Jon stomped around the fire to make it less noticeable now that night was falling. The boy pointed at Ghost and said, “that wolf, a direwolf?”

“Aye, Ghost.”

“You a warg?” The boy asked.

“Aye.”

“My brother was too,” the boy looked angry now, “he shouldn’t have died from the flux, not really. But his bird, the slavers shot it down with arrows when they saw it flying over their ship. What’s worse, they fed it too him when they found out what he was. He was sick for days. After it happened I thought, _are all Eastern men so cruel? _Free Folk fight each other, that’s true enough, but I’d never known anyone do _that. _Can you imagine having to eat your wolf?”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “What’s your name?”

“Marick.” The boy said.

“Are you one too?” Jon asked. “A Warg?”

“Aye. All my siblings were.” _Were mine? _Jon thought, _six wolves, six siblings, surely it was a gift from the gods, surely they had it too._

“If you were in the fighting pits, how did you escape?” Jon asked.

“The Queen found out what had happened. She doesn’t like slavery, see, so she had the man who sold me there hanged along with all his friends.” Marick smiled at the memory. “Then she offered to bring us home. She had planned on sailing us all the way back North, even wanted to send extra ships to save the people remaining at Hardhome. But her old man told her the seas there were too dangerous, that she should send a small, unmarked ship to Saltpans and let us find our own way North.”

“The Queen brought you here?” Jon asked, slightly incredulously, “which Queen?”

“The Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen.” Marick said, smiling. “She’s going t’ take the Seven Kingdoms, and when she does she’ll treat the Freefolk right.”

“She brought you here, is she here now?” Jon asked. News travelled slowly to the Wall, but if a Targaryen was invading they should have known. Jon did not think he’d ever even heard of this _Dragon Queen_, except mayhaps for stories that the Mad Kings children still lived in Essos, _could she be one of them?_

“Well, she’s not part of our small party, but she landed on an island just of the shore of Westeros. That was before she sent us here, so we got to see the Castle.” Marick said proudly. “It was big.”

“I bet,” Jon could only guess that he meant Dragonstone, _it’s the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, if I were her that’s where I’d go. _“So she’ll be attacking soon?”

“I don’t know. I guess, no point in waiting now that she’s finally here.” Marick finished his food and rubbed at his eyes, but Jon had to know more.

“Do you think she’ll win?” He asked, slightly frantically, “when she attacks do you think she’ll win?”

Marick laughed, hard. “Of course!” He said when he could speak again.

“Why?”

“Well why’d you think? They don’t call her the Dragon Queen for nothing.” He yawned. “I’ve seen the beasts in action. So unless the people she’s fighting against have something like that, I wouldn’t go against her.” With that he lay back and seemed to fall asleep instantly.

Jon had a harder time finding rest. _This country has only just come come out of a war, _he thought, and though he had not fought in it himself, he had felt its loses as hard as anyone, _father, Robb, Bran and Rickon, mayhaps Arya too… _even Sansa, Jon knew nothing of her whereabouts, _and she lost her wolf. _

He hadn’t been in the Riverlands long, but the effect the war had on the land was clear as day. He saw farms that were broken and burnt, the land around them dead and empty, most likely salted to make it useless for anyone in the future. He’d narrowly avoided one party of Lannister’s on the Kingsroad and he knew there would be more of them the further South he went, _a man in black with a direwolf by his side isn’t exactly inconspicuous. _Even with Longclaw, he and Ghost wouldn’t be able to win in a fight against a sizeable group of Lannister soldiers.

What would happen if the country was forced into another war now. Winter was well on its way, the snow was evidence of that. With all the continent had been through there was no guarantee it could survive the winter even if there wasn’t a war, especially given all Jon had seen and learned at the Wall and beyond. If there’s another war, the Lords and Ladies and anyone with any power would be distracted by all the discourse in the south, none of them would help Jon and the North during the Long Night. It was all too much. _But…_

This Dragon Queen, if what Marick said was true, she had helped them and even gone so far as to offer to send help to all the Freefolk stuck at Hardhome. Surely if she could bring Dragons back into the world then she would believe him if he told her what was coming. She might help them in the Great War, _and fire breathing dragons would be invaluable against wights. _

After a long while Jon decided that once he’d found Arya, they would go to Daenerys Targaryen and ask for her help. And when he closed his eyes that night, he dreamt of wolves.

-BRAN IV-

“Turn left,” Bran called.

They must have been running for days. The dead had found their way into the cave of the Three Eyed Crow, so they had run. They ran until they could not, then they rested, then they ran again. For the dead do not rest. They had repeated this cycle almost eight times now, but none could knew long they had truly been running for, for down in the tunnels their only light came from their torches, so none could say when was day and when was night.

Bran, of course, did not run. He couldn’t, and now with Hodor gone their was no one able to carry him. When they first ran Meera had carried him on her back, but he slowed her down too much. So when they stopped to rest she took the basket Hodor had used to carry Bran on his back and fitted it to Summer. The Wolf had protested at first, but Bran calmed him and when they tried putting Bran on his back the boy was small and skinny enough for Summer to carry him with ease.

“We need to rest,” called Meera from behind him. “Jojen is tired he can’t keep on.”

“Soon,” bran told her. “There’s a chamber ahead where we can sleep.”_ But the dead won’t sleep, and every time we stop they grow closer_.

Bran and Summer were the first into the chamber. It was far smaller than the cave of The Three Eyed Crow, it consisted of just one dark opening with the pale roots of a Weirwood weaving through the walls and knotting together in the ceiling.

The Reeds arrived soon after, Meera was holding Jojen under his arms to keep him on his feet. “I know I’ve asked you before, Bran,” she said as she lowered Jojen to the ground to sleep, “but are you completely sure this is the right way?”

“Yes, I promise,” Bran told her, they both watched Jojen as he closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly. “I know the way home, I won’t get us lost.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Only it feels like it’s been growing even colder of late, if we’re going south it should get warmer.”

“Everywhere is getting colder,” Bran told her. “We cannot outrun Winter.”

Meera nodded vaguely and helped Bran off of Summers back and onto the floor. There they all sat huddled together against the wolf and the wall for warmth. “Do you know how much farther it is?” Meera asked.

“We’re almost half way,” Bran answered with a small smile, but he knew it was no comfort to her.

“Do you think we’ll make it there?” She asked, quietly.

“Yes.”

“What about the dead, can you see them?” There was fear in Meera’s voice now. They had seen the wights before, but they had been so close in the cave, and they had cost them Hodor.

“I can’t see them, but they don’t move too fast so we can stay ahead of them,” Bran knew that wasn’t entirely true. The dead did move slow, their movements were awkward and jerky, but Jojen was getting weaker by the hour, being constantly moving and pressed for food was not a life that suited his health. Most of the time now Meera had to carry or support her brother so he wouldn’t be left behind.

Bran found he was not tired, and noticed Meera was a still awake also. “When we’re passed the wall, these tunnels will lead us to Winterfell,” he told her. “I saw a battle there, it’s safe there now. We can leave jojen there to recover and then we’ll go on.”

“Go on where?” Meera asked, her voice trembling. “Where are we going? What are we supposed to do now?”

“We should speak to your father.” Bran decided. “He knows things, I’m sure of it. Then we should find Jon.”

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“South. I saw him a few days ago, he’s in the Riverlands.” It had felt strange to Bran when he saw Jon, like being woken from a sleep and feeling his eyes open for the first time. “He needs to know the truth.”

“Yes,” Meera agreed. She reached into her belt and drew something out. “We should give him this as well.”

Bran had not yet seen the sword close up; it was Valyrian steel, that much was clear. The hilt was black and thinner than most other swords he’d seen, though he supposed that was because it had been designed for a woman’s grip. There was a ruby in the centre of the cross guard, and the top of the hilt was gold wrought in the shape of flames. “The three eyed crow gave it to you.” Bran told her.

“It’s not mine though,” Meera scoffed. “Besides, I’m no good with a sword, the spear is my weapon. He only gave it me because it was too valuable to be left there. It’s Valyrian steel, _dragon steel _he called it. He said it kills wights.”

“Then why would you give it away?” Bran asked. “It’s clearly a sword for a woman and Jon isn’t that. If you could learn how to use it-”

“Bran,” she interrupted him. “This weapon is wasted on me. And it does not belong to me.”

“Why not?” Bran demanded. “Because it doesn’t belong to your house? It was _given _to you by its last owner, I’d say that makes it yours.”

“I don’t want it, Bran” she said quietly. “My house fought against the Targaryens in the rebellion, taking their family blade now feels wrong. Dark Sister once belonged to Visenya, and so many other great Dragonlords. It should belong to their descendants now, not some Crannogman.”

“You know, she’s wasted on Jon more,” Bran told her.

“Why is that?”

“Because Jon already has a Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw.”

“Well now he can have another.” Meera said, slightly irritated.

“Or mayhaps there’s another option,” Bran thought for a moment. “You wouldn’t have to keep it, but you wouldn’t give it to Jon.”

“Who would I give it to then?”

“You say it belongs to house Targaryen, that it’s a women’s sword. Then we give it to a woman of house Targaryen.”

“There aren’t any left,” Meera looked confused for a moment. “Are there?”

“There’s one,” Bran nodded. “And she’s sailing for the Riverlands as we speak.”


End file.
